Whatever Remains, However Improbable
by Rinolia
Summary: AU.M/M. L names Near as his successor, and Mello is forced to start his own detective agency in response. When his most exciting cases include finding a lost bag of weed and with Matt as a partner, he thinks it's time to reconsider his life choices.
1. The Curious Incident of the Dog

**Author's Note: **So this started as a basic challenge to myself to do two things: 1. write a multi-chaptered story, and 2. write something with Mello as the "main character." Not really so much him the main character, and not really his POV because I don't like writing first-person stories, but you get the point. Every other story I've done/started has Matt in that role. I don't know why, I can just write him better. Maybe because if I were to be a character, I'd be him. We're both smokers and gamers with a 'fuck if I care' attitude and a dry/sarcastic sense of humor. The only thing I really have in common with Mello is that I'm blonde and can totally also be a giant bitch. In other, ACTUALLY IMPORTANT story info, this is starting off a little weird. I like the concept of this story I have going on and the shit I have written for later A LOT, but this beginning thing is just to sort of ease into it and create a general mood for the whole thing. The story is not going to be like this the entire time, with random, kind of funny but generally stupid cases. There is going to be one, and it is going to bring our little heroes (anti-heroes?) traveling around a lot. I just have to get there first. Give me a chapter or two. I have an actual game plan for this story too, so updates might actually be in my future for once. The M rating is for later on, ps. This is slightly AU and I get the feeling also slightly OOC. Apologies. Sorry this thing was so damn long.

**Disclaimer**: There's quite a few things I need to disclaim here. Firstly, I don't own Death Note or anything remotely affiliated with it. Secondly, I don't own the fucking title to my own damn story. It's a quote. From Sherlock Holmes. This first case in this chapter is also in a way belonging with that disclaimer, as it is an illusion to another quote. From Sherlock Holmes. I can't help it - I major in lit and writing - you can probably find about a hundred allusions in this story and maybe a hundred more that were completely unintentional. Thirdly, I should probably disclaim this plotline. I would love to say the idea is mine, but honestly, I know it's been done before. Haven't read it on this site, but I'm sure it's been done somewhere. And I got the idea for this after finishing Crooked Little Vein by Warren Ellis, so I'm sure the influence is there in my mind. And if that third little disclaimer doesn't answer anyone's question of "is this going to be wildly inappropriate?" The answer is - yes, it is.

The entire Holmes quote, if anyone is interested is, "[...] when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth" Too long to fit into a title, I think. might have yelled at me and foiled my plans of long-winded-ness like it did with my summary. Oh well.

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**Title: Whatever Remains, However Improbable . . . **

**Author: Rinolia**

Mello was bored. Not just the regular, let's-think-up-ways-to-make-fun-of-Near bored, he was murderously bored. And it wasn't just a one time deal either; he fucking hated his life.

Currently, the twenty-year-old blonde was sitting at his desk in the first floor of the house him and Matt were renting. They had made the first floor of their house an office area, while they lived up in the second floor. Mello was also staring woefully at the mess that was his desk. There were coffee rings all over the surface, but get serious, he lived too dangerously to worry about coasters. There were also a few cigarette burns marring the surface 'cause Matt was a jerk, and one of the bottom drawers was missing the front part of itself, which included the handle, which made Mello have to reach in and grab the actual wood (that's what she said) every time he wanted to open the drawer, which usually entailed him getting his fingers caught, swearing loudly, and spilling something all over the papers on his desk.

He REALLY fucking hated his life. He had been living this way for about six months now, ever since L decided to retire from the detective life in favor of fucking Kira (legitimately – having sex with Light Yagami), and had named NEAR as his successor. Fucking NEAR. So Mello had decided to start his own little detective agency – and took Matt along for the fun of it. Matt hadn't even realized what was going on until the plans were halfway in motion when he finally looked up from whatever game he was playing and asked what was going on. He had probably only looked up to find a cigarette, too. At first he thought Mello was trying to get him to marry him, what with the lease for a house in front of him, and when he found out it was only a detective agency, he decided that was one of the better scenarios, and signed the damn thing.

Muttering about how much he hated everything, Mello opened up a bag of Lindt chocolate balls. That's how much his life sucked. He didn't even have a bar of chocolate to bite into ferociously. He only had little individually wrapped balls that were gooey on the inside. Because Matt was the worst sidekick known to man. All the same, Mello would sometimes put little placards that said "sidekick" or "secretary" on Matt's desk, because even if it never really annoyed Matt, Mello liked to pretend it did just so he could have a chuckle at someone else's expense. The only good thing about all of it was that he was legally allowed to carry his gun around. Although, having a gun license made him feel a little less badass. But he did still have his Russian accent, which made anything he said sound more badass.

Mello put his booted feet up on his desk, and directed his attention to Matt, who was sitting across the room at his own desk, on the laptop.

"Did we get any e-mails?"

Matt didn't even look up. "E-mails for what?"

"You know damn fucking well what kind of e-mails I'm talking about, douchebag. The ones with JOBS in them."

"Hm. Well, I did get an e-mail from someone who wanted me to enlarge my penis, but I don't think they'd pay me for that. Unless they'd pay me AFTER I got it done to have sex with them," Matt looked thoughtfully away from the computer, the light reflecting in his goggles.

"I am going to castrate you."

"You know damn well I'm not checking our e-mail, Mel."

"Then what the fuck are you doing?! And have been doing for the past two hours?!"

"WoW, duh."

Mello wasn't even doing to dignify that with a response. But he did resort to popping another Lindt ball in his mouth, making sure it was wet enough, and then shooting it across the room at Matt. He was not rewarded with any kind of reaction.

He was about to repeat the gesture again, when someone walked in through the front door to their "office." Mello used to take his feet off his desk and try to portray some semblance of professionalism when people walked in through his door, but he stopped caring a while ago. Probably when ninety-five percent of the people who walked in were looking for the orthodontist's next door. And then there was that one time some kid had walked in and wanted them to help him find his missing weed. He told them he'd smoke them up if they found it. They had found it in about ten minutes in the kid's car, and said car was fish bowled in another ten.

This person, however, was neither looking for the orthodontist or their weed, as it was a fifty-something, well-dressed lady.

Mello merely raised an eyebrow and asked "Can we help you?"

"The sign outside says you're detectives – is that right? Oh god, please let it be right," She sounded quite frazzled as she looked between Matt and Mello.

Matt outright ignored her, but Mello nodded his head slowly, so she planted her skirt suit-ed ass in the folding chair in front of his desk, lifting her handbag to place it on his desk, but once she carefully looked at it, thought better of it and instead perched the pink monstrosity on her lap.

"My baby just finished her competition and had won best in show when suddenly she just disappeared! I think someone kidnapped her!" The woman went off without even the slightest question of what happened.

Mello looked at her for a second, and then took his feet off his desk and went on a search for his notebook to write this down in. Sure, it was the kidnapping of some beauty pageant contestant with a crazy ass mother, but it was the most exciting case he'd gotten in, well, forever. And rent was due in a few days.

When Mello realized his legal pads were all in the drawer with the broken door, he sighed and set himself up for disaster. And it came. Why where his legal pads in the most inconvenient drawer inhabiting his desk? Because that's how much he got to use them. He got his fingers caught along the sides about five times before he finally grasped a corner and pulled the drawer out, only to get his finger nicked on the edge of the desk where the door had been previously.

"Mother fucking cocksucker!" He screeched, putting his injured finger to his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Matt snickering, and in front of him the woman looked appalled.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled half-heartedly because he really wasn't sorry and he wanted this bitch to know he could swear however much he wanted in his own office, but he apologized anyway and finally took a notepad out. "Okay, so when did this happen?"

"Earlier today. The show ended at about eleven," The woman explained.

"Okay, and where was this show?"

"At the park on Main Street."

Mello held back the weird look he knew was about to grace his face, as who the fuck held a beauty pageant in a park? He shrugged it off and wrote down the details.

"Okay, now what's your daughter's name?"

"I'm so glad you understand the importance of my baby. Her name is Candy."

"How old is she?"

"She'll be turning four in a few weeks . . ."

"And what was she wearing when she went missing?"

"She had a pink bow in her hair."

"And what else?"

"Nothing else, the judges don't like when they have clothes on."

Mello didn't even bother to hide the look on his face this time. What kind of fucked up shit was he getting himself into? Four-year-olds participating in beauty pageants outside in the nude? He looked across the room at Matt, who had abandoned the use of the laptop and now had his head down on his desk, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Mello got the feeling he was missing out on something.

"Uh . . . all right, then. What does she look like?"

"Well, she's a white Pomeranian."

Mello stared at this woman. And then continued to stare some more for good measure. And then finally he said, "Oh fuck no. Who do I look like, Ace Ventura?" The pencil he was writing with snapped against the legal pad and Matt finally couldn't help himself and was laughing out loud.

"I'll give you all the money we won for the show if you find her," The woman pleaded.

At this, Matt stopped laughing and was looking interestedly at the woman. Mello glared over her shoulder at him and said, "We don't want your fifty dollars."

"It was a thousand."

Mello sighed, "I don't care . . ." and was about to add, 'I'm not finding a fucking dog. I have more respect for myself than that' when he got interrupted.

"I do care, we have to find this dog! It is our job as detectives to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves! To speak for those who cannot speak for themselves! And what is a more perfect example of something defenseless and in dire need of our help if not a helpless, ADORABLE dog," Matt said and got up from his desk and sat on the corner of Mello's, grinning at the woman. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

Mello got up and left the room. Yep, he definitely fucking hated his life.

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Please review!

And also, if someone could please explain the etiquette of this review response thing, it would be much appreciated. I'm about 99% sure it did not exist years ago when I was writing on this site previously, and I have no idea what to do with it. I mean, I understand what it does, but am I supposed to respond to every review just with a simple 'thank you' or just to the ones I actually have something substantial to say to, or ones in which a question was posed? Any help would be appreciated - I hate being rude.


	2. Where've You Been Hiding

**Author's Note:** Yay! I actually updated and it didn't take me a month. This is a huge deal for me. That being said, the next update may take a while because I'm going on vacation for the weekend and then I need to start getting my shit together to move back into college. But we'll see, a miracle happened this time, so maybe it'll happen again. I'm actually having a lot of fun writing this.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last time! They all made me smile, and thanks for everyone's help with what to do with the review responses. :) And with that being said, this is the last sort of 'introductory' chapter before the actual plot starts. Yay! So even if you don't like it that much now, at least wait it out until next chapter? Then you're welcome to hate it freely.

**Disclaimer**: Still don't own anything.

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Mello glared at the rearview mirror as he got in his car and shut the door. There was something paper-like and red swinging from it.

"Matt, when did you put an air freshener in MY car?"

"Firstly: Not your car. It's half mine. Secondly: . . . yesterday. It came free with the game I pre-ordered," Matt explained as he flipped open his DS.

Mello sighed and looked at the object again. "Did it have to be MARIO?"

"Well, it was Mario or Link."

"What made you choose Mario?"

"I don't like blondes," Matt said as he cast a sidelong glare at Mello.

Mello rolled his eyes and started the car, backing out onto the main road.

"You're gonna go left," Matt said, looking intently at the screen of his DS.

"I figured we'd go to the actual park where the dog went MISSING first," Mello responded, turning on his right blinker.

"Mello. Go. Left. Trust me. I have a plan."

Mello had been roped into the great dog search a good day after the crazy woman had came to his office. It took a the full day for Matt to convince him that they should do it, and in the end it was the fact that rent really was due in three days that made him agree. It had nothing to do with the fact that Matt had printed out pictures of sad Pomeranians in alleyways and taped them up everywhere with sad faces drawn on them and things like "I'm cold and hungry" written in speech bubbles. Mello had pointed out to Matt that dogs didn't talk to which Matt had responded that they did when they were starving to death.

Mello rolled his eyes once again and went left. He figured that after an hour of getting nothing accomplished with Matt's stupid plan, they would go to the park and follow his much superior plan.

Matt kept on giving Mello weird directions, sometimes almost as they were past a corner or a side street or an intersection, all the while never looking up from his DS, unless it was to check a street sign or look around for a second outside the window. Needless to say, Mello was getting annoyed.

"Matt. Your plan sucks. Do you even know where you're going?"

"Just trust me. This method never fails."

"We're not finding this dog."

"We could always ask L for help if all else fails."

"I'm not talking to L," Mello huffed. And it was true, he had not spoken to L for the past six months. He knew Matt still video chatted with him from time to time, but always left the room before he could grab the computer and start swearing at the guy about how much better (and prettier) he was than Near.

Matt rolled his eyes this time, "You're really still pissed off that he named Near his successor?"

"Yes I'm still pissed off! Near is the creepiest motherfucker on the planet. Who would pick him over ME?! And L's fucking Kira and that's just weird and creepy and a whole lot of things I don't want to think about," Mello defended himself.

"Actually, I think Kira's fucking L," Matt mumbled and Mello nearly crashed the car into a street sign.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"

Matt shrugged. "I don't knowww, that's the way they made it seem the last time I video chatted with them."

Mello looked over at Matt in disbelief. "You video chat with both of them? What are you guys like, totally bffs for lyfe?"

"I didn't WANT to talk to Light. He just kind of butted in while I was talking to L and started yelling at me."

"About what?"

"Well, he wanted to know what kind of shampoo I used and what brand of hair straightener I had. To which I told him my hair was lucky if it even got water in it once a week, let alone shampoo, and hair straighteners scare the shit out of me because they look like they're going to eat me. And then he went into hysterics about how good hair was wasted on me and it wasn't fair," Matt explained, all the while still not looking up.

". . . what the fuck?"

"Exactly. Wait – are you hating on my hair? I DO have nice hair."

"It's red."

"So?! At least I don't look like a girl," Matt mumbled the last part, but Mello heard it anyway.

Mello stopped the car in the middle of the road and made to grab Matt's DS. Matt knew it was going out the window if he didn't fight for it. Thus, a three-minute battle commenced while a line of traffic built up behind the boys' car. Eventually a car drove past on the wrong side of the road, the driver yelling "get a room!" and Mello gave up and started driving again, while Matt hugged his DS close to him.

"I hate you," Mello said while Matt was only sparing glances at his DS, the rest of the time keeping it pressed to his chest.

"Park facing those buildings," was the only response Mello got.

Mello didn't know why he listened, but he did. He put the car and park and killed the engine, staring at the buildings.

"Now what?"

"Well," Matt sounded confused, "This says she should be out there."

Mello slowly turned his head and fixed a glare onto Matt.

"Please tell me you're not basing our investigation off whatever STUPID game you're playing right now."

"Okay, I won't."

Mello leaned down and looked at the back of the DS to see "Sims 2: Pets" in the cartridge slot.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! I JUST WASTED THE PAST HOUR OF MY LIFE GOING AROUND IN CIRCLES AND A LOT OF GAS BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT WE'D FIND A DOG BASED OFF A DUMB ASS GAME?!" Mello calmed himself down slightly. "I hope you know we're not finding this dog."

"I wouldn't have DONE it if I didn't trust it wholeheartedly. I very much want to find this dog. It's a thousand dollars!"

"Half of it's going to rent," Mello interjected.

"Still – that's five hundred dollars. I have been smoking MAVERICKS just because they're still five dollars a pack. If we have five hundred dollars lying around, I can go back to smoking Camels and all with be right in the world."

Mello didn't even stop his head from falling on the steering wheel. He wanted a new best friend. Preferably one with more common sense.

"Mello, LOOK!" Matt shouted and pointed across the street.

Mello slowly raised his head from the steering wheel and glanced disbelievingly across the street. There was a white Pomeranian with a pink bow perched on its head in between two of the buildings.

"You have GOT to be kidding me," was the only thing he could say.

"My DS never lets me down," Matt grinned as he got out of the car, Mello slowly joining him.

When they were across the street and peering into the alleyway that served as a dumpster area for the business buildings, Mello looked over at Matt.

"Go in and get her!"

"Why do I have to? I'm the one that found her!"

"By sheer dumb luck alone. And I think for me having to put up with that stupidity, you should have to go get her. And she's cornered, so she's probably going to bite. So that's all you."

"Gee, thanks. I'm glad you care about me so much," Matt mumbled, but he went into the alleyway nonetheless. Mello followed him in a little bit, but stayed close to the exit in case the dog decided to make a run for it.

"Can't we just like, call her over with food or something?" Mello suggested.

"Do you have any food ON you?"

"I might have some chocolate in the car."

"Dogs can't eat chocolate, Mel."

"Then give her a cigarette."

Matt turned around to glare at Mello for a second. "And I'M the stupid one?"

Matt had slowly gone into the very back of the alleyway, where the dog was growling at him, backed in a corner by the dumpster.

"Mel, I don't think this is the best way to go about this," Matt said.

"Think of all the Camels you'll be able to smoke!"

Matt rolled his eyes but turned back to the dog nonetheless, getting in sort of a crouching position to seem less intimidating. Just as he had reached out to grab the dog and had fallen over, but at least with a dog in his hands, biting and clawing the entire time, someone tapped Mello on the shoulder.

Mello swung around and punched the person by sheer instinct. It was then he noticed that the person was a well-dressed man in his thirties, probably wondering what the hell two boys were doing outside his office building or something, and Mello almost felt bad. Almost.

He was expecting the guy to flip out on him, but instead the man pressed his fingertips to his cheek lightly, and gave a small smile. "I guess I can assume the two of you are Mihael Keehl and Mail Jeevas?"

Mello looked over at Matt, who was sitting down on the alleyway floor, dog in his lap, getting his fingers gnawed on, and got a worried look back. No one was supposed to know their real names.

Well, fuck. Mello punched the guy a second time.

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Please review! Sorry this was a little on the short side. I felt like this part needed to be on its own or else the next chapter would be long and I think this one flows in nicely to that one.


	3. Magpie

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry this took me so long! I know it probably wasn't THAT long, maybe a week and a half?, but I meant to get it done a whole lot sooner than I did. I just had the week from hell though. And I have another one coming up involving three-hour long Japanese classes during the day and then work every night of the week. The classes are enjoyable, if not a little exhausting. Work is just exhausting. So I thought I'd get this done when I had a spare few hours in a row. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, even though I'm pretty sure I PMed everyone a thank you that I could.

Which then brings me to the one review reply I could not PM to: Kat. I'm sorry if being like 'called out' in a story isn't something that you particularly enjoy, but I feel rude when I don't reply to people. Firstly, thank you VERY much for your reviews, I liked them a lot. And secondly, as a response to your review of chapter one, I giggled when I read that. You are absolutely, one hundred percent correct that is what I meant. I feel a little stupid, but in my defense, I have done a lot of censoring of myself in the normal way that I talk in regards to my writing. If I didn't, the majority of this story would make zero sense because it would all either be swears (which I actually can get away with in this one), Boston slang, or words used incorrectly that have somehow become correct usages to my friends and myself. So thank you for catching that, because I certainly would have never. Although the mental image it gave you made me giggle for a good while, so it all worked out. :P Thanks again!

Story time!

**Disclaimer**: Own nothinggg

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Mello tapped his pen on his desk impatiently. The man across from him was holding a bag of frozen (meaning freezer burned beyond belief) peas to the side of his face, and Mello would have felt bad for punching him twice if the guy wasn't such a dick. Currently, he was talking about how he had the money and resources to find out who they were and all the connections he used to get information on them.

They had left the building area where they had found the dog with said dog in tow, as well as the omniscient well-dressed man in the backseat, Mello's gun pointed at his head. The only words spoken in the car were "talk or do anything AT ALL and I'll shoot off your dick and feed it to that dog."

To which Matt had responded, "Yeah, she totally looks like a whore."

Matt had then decided that taking a detour to the dog's house was absolutely necessary, because he wanted the thousand dollars NOW, and while the woman looked a bit worried that there was a man with a gun to his head in the backseat, Matt solved the problem by making his English accent about a thousand times more noticeable, which usually solved problems concerning American women. They thought it was adorable or something. Mello didn't get it.

For the first year or so he had lived with Matt at Wammy's he was able to comprehend about one out of every hundred words Matt said. He was having a hard enough time with the English language, let alone crazy British accents. Sometimes he still didn't understand Matt and would just throw things at him to make him shut up.

So in the end it all worked out. The woman got her dog, the dog got to go home, Matt got to be obnoxious, Mello got to threaten someone's life, they collectively got paid, and now this guy was given the opportunity to brag about what a complete fucking asshole he was.

"So . . . I don't give a fuck about your secret police force that spied on us – you got our names how, exactly?" Mello asked.

"Well, it was through a long string of people, but eventually came down to a man named Roger. To his credit, though, he wouldn't tell me anything without a cash incentive," the man explained.

". . . how much?" Mello's voice was low.

"A hundred dollars."

"THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE SOLD US OUT FOR FIFTY BUCKS EACH? WHAT A FUCKING DICK. THE NEXT TIME I SEE HIM I'M CUTTING OFF HIS BALLS AND FEEDING THEM TO HIM!"

"Yeah, Wammy definitely would have held out for at least five hundred," Matt chimed in.

The man looked at Mello calmly. "What is it with you and your obsession with the genital region being put in people's mouths? If you have some oral fixation you need to satisfy, I'm sure your little redheaded friend would be happy to oblige you."

Mello suddenly felt VERY uncomfortable. He was going to open his mouth in shock, but then realized that would probably seem like an open invitation to the pervert. Matt even had the decency to look embarrassed, and kept his eyes trained on the computer that was sitting in his lap. Thankfully, the man didn't allow for much awkward silence, as he went on.

"This Roger man told me a great number of things – including that your parents got killed in a – "

"Shut the fuck up. Now," Mello's gun was once again pointed at the man's head, "And just who the fuck are YOU anyway?"

"I am not at liberty to disclose that information."

"Oh really?" Mello flicked off the safety on the gun. "So you can just spy on us and get all this creepy information on us and BLACKMAIL us with it and you won't even tell us your fucking name?!"

Matt clicked a few keys on the laptop, looked at it carefully, looked at the man across the desk, and then said, "It's Arnold Leach."

Both the man and Mello looked over at Matt, although Mello with considerably less shock on his face. Mello rolled his eyes and lowered his gun, putting it away.

"How did you do that?!" The man, Arnold, asked after a minute of stunned silence.

"Well, you gave yourself away, really. I mean, I'm sure I would have figured it out eventually, but it probably would have taken a good few days. I noticed that the money clip you were fidgeting with when you were oh-so inconspicuously trying to show us just how loaded you were had UCLA lettering on it, so I assumed that was your alma mater and took a chance and looked at alumni of that school and then matched up the names to those on flight logs of private planes going from southern California to New York and noticed that one stopped in Florida to visit a Marie Riley – one of the names you dropped earlier, I have no fucking clue who she is – and then I ran the plates of the white SUV that was parked directly next to our car in an otherwise empty parking lot when you first approached us and found it registered to a Leach – a family member, I suppose since you're on the insurance and then I brought your license up. Arnold Leach. 5'10. Birthday is May 8, 1973. And you're an organ donor. Your license expires soon though – you might want to get on that."

Arnold stared at Matt for a few more minutes while Mello muttered, "You're so fucking nerdy it's embarrassing."

". . . and here I just thought you weren't paying attention," Arnold muttered.

"Don't worry. You're not the first person to make the mistake. I do it to pretty much everyone. Helps when people try to blackmail me," Matt explained.

"Speaking of which," Mello interrupted, "what the fuck is it that you want?"

Arnold knew he was in no position to play any sort of game, so he just told them straightforward, "I want you guys to recover a family heirloom for me."

"Why us?" Mello asked.

"Well, now the reason is that right there," he explained, gesturing in the direction of Matt, "and you two were numbers two and three in line of succession for the detective L. Therefore, you can't be dumbasses."

"Good point. But why not just ask number one?"

"He wouldn't return my phone call."

"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?! THERE'S NO WAY IN HELL I'M TAKING NEAR'S LEFTOVER CASES. FUCK NO. GET THE FUCK OUT."

"I am willing to pay you one million dollars to do it. I have already deposited half of that in your bank account, with which you can use to cover any expenses you'll need for finding it," he continued, ignoring Mello's yelling, "Once you find it, you can keep whatever money is left over and I will give you the other half of it."

"You already deposited it? Who the fuck said we were going to do it?"

"I know your names. And a lot of other things."

"So?! We know yours! And we can find out more!"

"That's all public record."

". . . fuck," Mello conceded.

Arnold put his briefcase down on the desk in front of him. "Everything I know about its whereabouts is in this briefcase."

Mello sighed, admitted defeat to himself, and reached over his desk and grabbed the briefcase. "So what are we looking for?"

"A book."

"What KIND of book?"

"I can't tell you. In fact, I don't even know too much about it. There are clues to its contents in those documents, but the main thing you need to know is WHERE it is."

"So you want us to find A BOOK with no knowledge of what it looks like, what's in it, and probably no idea of where it is. Let me guess, you want it back by tomorrow?"

"No, take all the time you need. I would preferably like it back within the year, but I understand it's a complicated manner."

"What if we can't find it?"

"Then you can keep the rest of the five hundred thousand."

". . . what if I just tell you we can't find it and keep all your money?"

"Well, judging by your last outburst, SOMEONE has a really big inferiority complex."

Mello's eye twitched because he knew he was right.

"Fine. I'll look through this shit. Do you need my number to contact me about this?"

"No, I already have it."

"Of course you do, you giant fucking creeper. Get out."

The next day, neither Matt nor Mello had left the house. Or their kitchen table, for that matter. Papers of every sort were strewn across the desk, Arnold's briefcase left empty and discarded on the floor next to it.

Matt sighed as he looked across the table. "Mel, I think this is impossible. It spans back for like, EVER, and then disappears for years at a time and then comes back again at some crazy auction. And the only people who are buying it are either single people or big companies. All of which DO NOT exist, because there's absolutely NOTHING about them on the internet and I can find websites that don't even EXIST yet."

"Awesome. That's fucking great. We're looking for a book that we know nothing about which people and companies that don't exist have possession of. I think a notebook that killed people made more sense than this," Mello sighed and slouched down on the table, "Well, if it's all big businesses and people who have the ability to create these fake identities, and the auction price at all of these was pretty fucking high, then I'm gonna guess we're dealing with something that would help people in power, and only be available to rich people. However, I think there's documents FROM EVERY COUNTRY IN THE WORLD so I have no idea where we should go look for it."

"Let's go to Japan," Matt suggested.

Mello hid his face in his arms. "Matt, I'm not talking to L and I don't know why you're obsessed with getting me to do that."

"Because I think you should. And seriously, we have absolutely nothing going on this."

"We'd have to put all of our shit in storage because there's no way the landlord would hold this place for months for us after all the crap we pulled."

Matt laughed a little darkly, "Good thing nowhere has ever felt like home, or else I'd be a little sad about leaving."

Mello brought his head up and rested it on his hands. "I think Wammy's did."

"Are you serious? A place like that should be outlawed. 'Oh yay, let's take a bunch of really smart orphans because then their parents can't complain and turn them into a bunch of really socially awkward basket cases who have to deal with more pressure in one day than normal people do in their entire lives.'"

Mello looked at Matt thoughtfully. "You never wanted to be L, did you?"

"Absolutely not."

"Well, that's scary. Who knows – you could have been One if you actually tried."

"You shouldn't have tried so hard. I'm glad L didn't pick you."

Instead of getting mad, because Mello knew Matt didn't mean it in a mean way, he asked, "why?"

"Because then you're still you. You can still do what you want to do. You don't have to strive to be someone else. I don't have a problem with L, I think he's a great guy, but I'm not him and I wouldn't want to be him. I don't think he agreed with the whole thing either, I mean, he went along with it, but when you think about it, it's all really fucked up. People should just be who they are and not be ranked into numbers or feel inferior because they're not like someone else. I think it says something that the first time L found something that makes him happy, he stopped being that persona and was content to leave that and just be him and let someone else deal with that crap."

"Kira makes L happy?"

Matt shrugged, "He seems happier than anytime I've ever talked to him before."

"Well, fine. But I'm still not asking him for help. I can figure this out. Just give me a few days."

A week later Mello was on the laptop booking plane tickets to Japan while Matt was on the phone with L telling him they were coming for a visit.

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Woah. Didn't mean to get all srs bsns on you guys there real quick. It had to be done.

Please review!


	4. Leaving Home

**Author's Note**: Aahhh, sorry this took me so long! I meant to get it done a while ago and that clearly never happened. Work and Japanese class have been taking up my life recently, and I'm moving back into college in a week so in my free time I'm packing up all of my shit, and moving back into college for me is a reason to go shopping every spare minute of every day. I also got a haircut recently, which came out unintentionally very Mello-esque. It's okay, we're sexy and we know it.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything, still. Sadface.

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Mello was staring down into his halfway emptied cup of hot chocolate. It was the morning of the day him and Matt were heading off to Japan, which pissed Mello off so much that he had woken up super early on the godforsaken day. He had tried as hard as he could in the week since they had ordered the plane tickets, but the documents made just as much sense to him as they had when his logic was blinded by the stupidity they were first presented with. He had even hung up a giant map of the world in their hallway a few days ago and sat in there for a good few hours, putting pushpins in every location where the documents had mentioned the mysterious heirloom might be.

What he got was a collection of pins in every continent, and when he had finally given it a break and gone to bed for the night, he woke up to find his collection of pushpins were now rearranged to spell "G'MORNING SUNSHINE!" And Mello had taken it upon himself to respond in pushpin with "SUCK MY DICK," to which he was greeted with "YOU WISH" the next time he walked down the hallway. When Matt had gone to take a shower, Mello went into his room and stole his DS out of anger. An hour later when he was walking by the hallway once again, he noted a generous amount of pushpins were added to the map and it now said "I'M SORRY. I CAN HAS DS BACK NAO?" Mello decided he wasn't going to respond to that one and went to go find Matt instead. He had found him in the kitchen, eating dinner, so Mello sat down across from him and slid the DS across the table.

"Learn how to fucking spell."

"SOMEONE doesn't look at LOLcats."

". . . what the fuck is a LOLcat?"

"It's this thing online. It's a website where people send in pictures of animals with funny captions that are never spelt right."

"That has to be the dumbest thing I have ever heard."

"Well, maybe if you looked at some you wouldn't be such a negative nancy all the goddamn time."

"I'm going to ignore the fact that you just used the term 'negative nancy' and point out that you fucked up my map."

"It was stupid anyway," a thirty second pause. "Mel, I just took a shower. It was entirely unnecessary to throw my soda all over me."

So currently Mello was just sitting at their dining room table, staring at his hot chocolate which was growing colder by the minute, and waiting for Matt to wake up so he could have someone to talk to. Or bitch at. Either one.

As if on cue, Mello heard movement from Matt's room. He waited for the approximately five to ten thumps to occur before Matt found either his glasses or his goggles, whichever one he threw closer to his bed, and came downstairs. Matt was stupid enough to actually get prescription lenses put into his goggles because he wanted to seem 'cooler.' Mello though they just made him look even dumber than he would have if he just wore his glasses everywhere. Although he looked pretty dorky either way.

"Good morning, Mel. Why are you up so fucking early?" Matt greeted as he stumbled into the kitchen.

Mello looked up as Matt entered and noted that he had apparently found his glasses first, as well as having presented a challenge to himself to wear every color in the rainbow to bed the night before. His shirt was red and black striped (of course it was striped), he had on blue boxers, yellow socks, and he had thrown on a green sweatshirt before coming into the kitchen. Sure, it was only pajamas, but Mello decided it was better to just wear black all the time so as not to be caught looking like an idiot ever. Although wearing black all the time did make his hair stand out. And as anyone who has blonde hair knows, the real purpose in life is to make blonde hair look as blonde as possible while keeping it from looking dyed.

"You look like a mix between Christmas and a gay pride parade," was Mello's only 'good morning' greeting.

"Good to know I achieved all of the life goals I had set out for myself," Matt rolled his eyes as he went to light a cigarette.

"Can you not fucking smoke in here? We have a porch, dumbass."

"But it's raaaaaaining!"

"You have a hood."

"Will you at least make me coffee while I'm out there?"

"Fuck no."

Matt went outside on the porch anyway, because he knew Mello would do it. And Mello did. So now Matt was sitting across from Mello, smiling into his cup of coffee, even though all of his clothes were wet.

"Well this is adorable. Breakfast in the household. Should we be playing footsie underneath the table or something?" Matt commented in between sips of coffee.

"Touch me and die."

"Wow, Mello, you truly are the best morning person I know. Why are you up so early, anyway?"

"You're up too."

"Stop equivocating the question, question-equivocator."

Mello stared at him for approximately forty seconds more than was necessary to make sure Matt got the true effect of how stupid what he just said was before answering, "I couldn't sleep."

"Are you scared of flying or seeing L?"

"I'm not scared of anything, dumbass. I just couldn't sleep."

"Mmmmhmmmmmm."

Mello not-so-lightly kicked Matt from underneath the table.

"Oh good – so we are going to play footsie!"

-

Mello was standing in his room, looking at his open suitcase on his bed. He had no fucking clue what to pack. Making the short trek over to Matt's room, he peeked in to see Matt sitting on top of his suitcase, doing what else but playing his DS.

"Matt. . ." Mello started.

"Shhh! Give me a sec, Mel."

"No. Fucking pay attention to me. This is important."

Matt mimicked him with, "I'm Mello and I'm a big attention whore," in a higher pitched voice, but paused his game anyway and looked over at Mello. "What is it?"

"No. Fuck you. I don't even want your help anymore."

"I paused my game for you to PMS at me?"

"I'M NOT A FUCKING GIRL!"

"What's your problem? All of your hair crap won't fit in your bag?"

Matt realized he had maybe pushed it a little too far when Mello just glared at him, walked out of Matt's doorway, and slammed the door to his own room shut.

A few minutes later, when Mello was still standing in front of his bed, looking at his empty suitcase, he heard a knock on his door.

"Can I come in?"

"Go fuck yourself."

Matt opened the door anyway and pushed a cup of hot chocolate in Mello's hands before he could punch him or push him out of the room. Mello silently glared at him, but sipped at the drink anyway.

"What did you need help with?"

Mello glanced sideways at Matt. "I don't know what to pack . . ."

". . . you got mad at me for being correct about you being a girl about packing?"

Mello kicked him, and made sure to aim it in the same spot he had kicked him earlier in the morning.

"Shiiiiitttt," Matt whined, lifting up his leg and rubbing at his shin. "I don't know, just don't pack a lot cause we don't know where we're gonna be going. And don't bring anything like, super important. Except for those documents. Remember to pack those."

"Thanks, Matt, I have such a better idea of what to pack now. Why have you been in a good mood all day?"

"I'm not in a particularly good mood, MY SHIN KIND OF HURTS, but compared to your lovely doom and gloom attitude, I suppose I am. I don't know – I'm kind of excited to go. I've never flown in first class before."

"Have fun with a sixteen hour flight without a cigarette," Mello giggled to himself as a look of sadness came over Matt's face.

Matt retaliated with, "Have fun sitting next to me."

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I'm sorry – short chapter I know, but once again if I had combined this one with the next one it would be like, superlong!chapter. And no one likes those. So yeah, please review! A bit of a lull in the ~* action! in this chapter, but I had fun writing it.


	5. All I Want

Authors Note: So I'm trying to get this done before this semester kicks my ass. Which is looks like it most definitely will. Be kicking my ass, that is. All semester long. So updates should sadly be less frequent. I'll try to get it done every other week or so, but realistically it might be longer than that. Three upper-level political science classes, a lit class and a writing seminar for my writing major capstone class kind of take up a lot of time. But I was the dumbass who decided to double major. I hope everyone else's school years started off less stressful!

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

And now that I am posting this after a night of drinking away the first week of classes, this should be interesting. Also, I had to pull some tricks which meant that fanfiction dot net would not allow me to upload this as a .doc document so I had to upload it as an HTML document and therefore had to go back and put in all the punctuation. So I apologize if it's super messed up. And as a side note which I found extremely hilarious, I kept on trying to upload this for a good twenty minutes and not thinking it would upload, I saved this as 'i am drunk.' So it will stay like that for a good while in my document manager. AWESOME.

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"Is it absolutely necessary for you to be doing that right now? We're not even on the fucking plane yet," Mello said, looking over at Matt who was jiggling his leg while sitting down.

"You're the one who needed to remind me how long the freaking plane ride was! You could have just let me realized it when I was already on there so I wouldnt get so . . . anxious . . . about not being able to smoke."

"And let everyone on the plane see you freak out?"

"Auuugh – just stop talking. I hate you right now."

Mello just rolled his eyes and went back to reading his book.

When they were seated on the plane, Mello did the best he could to ignore Matt, who was still fidgeting in his seat and toying with anything near him – the window shade, the arm rest, the pull-out tray.

"Mello, give me your chocolate."

"Fuck no."

"Mellooooooooooo."

"Oh wow, that obnoxious whine just makes me want to give it to you so much more."

"Well it seems to keep you from being a total bitch all of the time. I feel like I'm going insane."

"Matt – can we be fucking serious for like, eight seconds? You had a cigarette before we went into the airport. The plane hasnt even TAKEN OFF yet. You've refrained from smoking for longer periods of time."

"Yeah, when I knew I could have one whenever the fuck I wanted in the future. Now I have to suffer for OVER HALF A DAY in this fucking plane IN THIS ONE SEAT while I slowly go insane."

"If you don't chill out I'm going to break both of your kneecaps."

Matt just stared at Mello. "Yeah, cause that would really keep me from whining."

When the plane had taken off and had spent a short while in the air, Mello got up, reached up to their carry-ons, pulled out Matt's DS and handed it to him.

"Why do I feel like I'm dealing with an eight-year old? Here, now stop fucking twitching."

"You still should just give me your chocolate," Matt mumbled, turning on the DS.

"Why? Then wed both just be miserable."

"Exactly."

"Excuse me," a man across from the aisle interrupted their conversation. "Hello, I'm Dave. I just wanted to introduce myself as we'll be in-flight neighbors. Why are you two traveling to Japan?"

Mello slowly turned to look at the man and then turned back to Matt. "I knew we should have bought all the seats in first class so we didn't have to deal with retards."

"Meeeellll," Matt whined approximately a few hours later. "My DS died."

"Play on the laptop."

"That died before we even boarded the plane."

"Not my problem."

"Yes it is."

"I am five seconds away from killing you."

"Give me your chocolate."

"Three seconds."

"Or some coffee."

"Half a second."

"I have a massive migraine and I think I'm dyyyyyying."

"Stop being a drama queen. You're not dying," Mello responded as he smacked Matt in the head.

"Ow! That was so totally unfair. My head hurts SO BAD."

"Mine does too cause you won't shut up."

Matt pouted as he went back to spinning the tab that kept the table tray in the upright position. "I hate flying."

"And I hate you," Mello sighed as he pressed the stewardess button above his seat.

"Hello, what can I get you?" A stewardess asked as she came over a minute later.

"Vodka. Lots and lots of vodka."

"Wow, Mel, youre going to drink all of that?" Matt asked, staring at Mello's table tray full of little vodka nips.

"No – you are."

". . . oh really?"

"Yep, you're going to drink them, shut the fuck up, and pass out."

Mello had accounted for the fact that an hour later Matt would be staring at the seat in front of him, eyes half open. What he had not accounted for was Matt slowly turning to look at him, flipping up the armrests dividing their two seats, wrapping his arms around Mello, and passing out with his head on Mello's shoulder.

"Matt . . . ?" Mello questioned warily.

No answer.

"Well, fuck," Mello sighed as he removed the goggles from the top of Matt's head, as they were starting to dig into his neck.

"So, when did you two start dating?" Dave from across the aisle asked.

"I don't even know you and I hate you," Mello responded as he opened a nip himself and shot it back.

"You could always drag him to the bathroom and join the mile high club."

Mello glared at this Dave character. "We're. Not. Dating," he growled.

"Oh, well, in that case," Dave leaned forward in his seat to look around Mello. "I'll drag him to the bathroom."

"You won't touch him!" Mello screeched, unconsciously wrapping his arms around Matt and pulling him closer.

For the next hour or so Mello stared silently at the seat in front of him, left hand unconsciously playing with Matts hair, and to any onlooker it would look like he was zoning out, but his mind was working overtime.

'This is so fucking stupid. Why am I getting so worked up over someone commenting about how Matt and me act like were dating? People used to say it all the time,' Mello mused to himself, eyes half closed. 'But then again, I suppose that was always people who knew us. I guess logically it would make sense for us to date. No one else would dare risk stuffing chocolate into my mouth when I start bitching at them. Or even be so calm while I bitch at them. Why is he always so calm? Fuck him, I'm intimidating. He does have really soft hair, even if it is an obnoxious color. And he does have really pretty eyes when they're not hiding behind anything. I suppose if I were to be stuck with Matt for the rest of my life, it'd be all right . . .' Mello finished his thoughts as he gradually fell asleep.

He awoke to complete darkness. Blinking a few times, he felt his eyelashes move against something. Moving a hand up, he pulled the offending material from his eyes and looked at it.

"Matt . . ." he started warningly.

"What?! You fell asleep so I went Sky Mall shopping!" Matt grinned holding up the catalogue from the pouch in front of his seat.

"Did you have to buy a PINK sleep mask that said Princess?"

"Would you really expect anything else after you fed me gallons of vodka?"

"ARE YOU EATING MY CHOCOLATE?!"

"Well, I wasnt sure if you were gonna wake up again and we slept through the dinner cart. So, yes, I am."

The longer Mello attempted to glare at Matt, the more he realized he could not be mad at him. He decided this was a problem, so he threw the sleep mask at Matt, leaned against the armrest closest to the aisle, and attempted to fall back asleep.

"Meeelll, dont be mad at me. Ill buy you more chocolate! They have some in the Sky Mall!"

"Shut up, Matt."

When they finally landed in Narita airport and were walking to the baggage claim, Mello still was not talking to Matt.

"Mello . . . are you really still mad at me?"

Mello didnt answer but instead turned around to face Matt. And then he reached the same problem that he had been having the whole while on the plane: Matts huge, blue eyes were pouting at him. If eyes could pout, this is most definitely what his were doing. And it wasnt fair cause Mello couldnt yell at him. And then he started to wonder why all of a sudden this was having an effect on him, and made the decision that it had to stop immediately or there would be lots of issues in the future.

Mello decided to fix the problem by reaching up to the goggles that were back on top of Matt's head, and put them over his eyes.

"Go outside and have your fucking cigarette. I'll wait for the luggage," Mello said, turning to the baggage belt, which had not started moving yet.

"Yay! Cigarette time!" Matt yelled as he grabbed his carry-on from off the floor and ran off toward the nearest exit. "Hi L, Hi Light!" He added as he ran by the two, who were approaching the baggage claim.

Mello crossed his arms across his chest moodily. This trip was turning into a combination of a whole bunch of annoyances and he really did not want to deal with it anymore. To add to his misery, it seemed that L was conversing with Near on the laptop he was carrying with him.

Light looked at Mello and opened his mouth to say something, but Mello interrupted him. "Shut the fuck up. I dont want to hear anything you have to say."

Near, having heard Mellos voice, took the opportunity to announce loudly, "Hello, Mello. What brings you to Japan? Did someone lose their dog abroad?"

Ah, the proverbial straw that broke the camels back. Mello grabbed the laptop from L and immediately started yelling, "Listen, you albino son of a bitch," continuing with random explicatives and comments about how Near should suck his dick and die in a fire and other lovely ways of having horrible things done to him, usually ending in his death.

Matt came back from his trip outside, and completely ignored Mello yelling at a laptop, while L looked slightly exhausted and Light terribly confused, then noticed their luggage pass by slowly, and had the good sense to go running after it.

Light blinked a few times and turned to L, "These are the kids who were lined up to be your successor?"

L looked back sheepishly. "I wasnt given much to work with," he explained.

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Yay! Wasn't a huge fan of this chapter, but at least now I can move on. I was sort of in a road block stuck position for a while.

On another note, it seems (judging my story visitor stats) that I have a lot of repeat readers. But not so much repeat reviewers. It would make me super happy if you guys reviewed! Even if it's something like "yay!" I'd probably do a little dance and be like, "Yay, a review!"

Anyway, so something I was thinking about which is now being turned into A POLL QUESTION:

If you could steal anyone's wardrobe from Death Note, whose would it be?

Mine would probably have to be Misa's, because we both love obnoxious dresses/accessories. Even if I am wearing a pink version of Mello's boots (but with an obnoxious skirt/obnoxious jewelry!) right now. It's totally fine.


	6. In the Way

**Author's Note**: So yeah, about that whole updating thing . . . I didn't do that for a good while, huh? Sorry bout thaaaat. But college really has been kicking my ass, like I said it would – so at least everyone was forewarned. BUT I HAVE GOOD NEWS! I got accepted into my program in Japan for the spring semester! Yaaaay! The only issue now is that I think to get a visa from them is harder than any other country ever and it's pretty ridiculous. But I'm still wicked excited about going! I will delay no further because I've already delayed on this chapter for about a month.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own it.

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Mello stared up at the ceiling in L's house. He had mentioned something about being tired even though he had slept for most of the plane ride over, and promptly went to the guest bedroom. But instead of sleeping he was just staring at the ceiling and being angry at everyone. Mainly Matt – even though he didn't have a good reason to be mad at Matt, it wasn't really his fault Mello had just decided to notice how good looking he was – but he wasn't going to admit that to anyone. Not even himself. And he was still pissed off at L. And Light. Because he was just obnoxious.

"Hey Mel, are you still awake?" Mello heard Matt's voice at the door.

"No, I'm just lying on a bed with my eyes open and the light on because that's how I sleep best."

"It really wouldn't surprise me if you had adopted the habit of sleeping with your eyes open," Matt said as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his suitcase over. "L and Light went to bed, so I'm going to go on the couch."

". . . why are you going on the couch?"

"Well, you seem pissed off at me. Which I wasn't going to mention because I wasn't sure if it was one of those times where I should know that I did something wrong but the fact that I have no clue would just make you even angrier," Matt explained.

Mello sighed and threw an arm over his eyes. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just tired and in a general bad mood."

"Mello. I know when you're mad at me. Hardly know why, but I do know when you're mad."

Mello flopped his arm back on the bed and glared over at Matt. "I'm ABOUT to be mad at you if you don't shut up."

"Fine. Be in denial. So it's okay if I sleep in here with you?"

"It's a big enough bed for like, three people."

"I'm going to take that as another one of your obvious comments that take the place of saying anything remotely sentimental."

"Wait . . . did you say earlier that L was going to BED?"

"Yeah and he was really awkward about it too because he still acts like we're eleven and he can't tell us he's really going to have sex."

"Things I didn't need to know, Matt."

"You asked."

Mello turned over on his side. "Just turn off the light when you're done doing whatever."

Mello woke up in the morning, thankful to notice that he stayed on his side of the bed and Matt stayed on his, which took care of any potentially awkward conversations Mello had feared would happen.

Lying on his back, he quietly listened to Matt's nearly silent mumblings. It was something Matt had always done – quietly narrate his dreams while he was sleeping. Mello could never make out what exactly they were about, but he had always found comfort in lying in bed for a few minutes, listening to Matt, before they had to get up and go to class or do whatever. It was the thing he missed most when him and Matt moved in together and got separate rooms.

Mello was still smiling to himself and thinking about what an embarrassing sight he must be, smiling serenely to himself in the morning light, and wondering whether he should find his gun and put a bullet hole in the wall somewhere to fix the scene, when Matt woke up, rubbing his eyes and mumbled, "G'morning Mel."

"Morning."

"You seem to be in a better mood."

"I told you I was just tired."

"And I told you I knew you were lying."

Mello responded by flopping a pillow in Matt's face.

"Mel, can you do me a favor?"

"No."

"Can you find my glasses on the nightstand? I can't see a damn thing."

"Are you fucking kidding me? It's right next to you."

"Mel!"

Mello rolled his eyes and went to reach over Matt to the nightstand, when he got thrown back by a pillow connecting with his face.

"Matt . . . are you fucking serious right now?"

"You started it."

"Oh, it's on."

And with those words, a full-out pillow fight commenced while Light and L sat down the hallway in the kitchen, Light glancing worriedly in the room's direction amidst the yelling of swears, while L sat serenely sipping his coffee.

"Should we . . . see what they're doing?" Light asked, looking over at L.

"I believe it's safe to say that Mello and Matt are having a pillow fight," L responded around sips of his coffee. "And if I remember correctly, in a few seconds it will turn into Mello losing horribly because Matt decided to turn in into a tickle fight."

"MATT – THAT IS SO FUCKING UNFAIR. STOP – FUCKING - TICKLING – ME!" Came the perfectly timed yell from down the hallway.

Light began to look less worried. "Oh, so I take it this happens a lot?"

"More or less," L shrugged. "Although the number of swears has increased exponentially with Mello's age."

Approximately ten minutes later the other two occupants of the apartment were seated around the kitchen table with L and Light, Mello glaring daggers at Matt over his coffee cup.

"Don't be mad just because I won," Matt directed toward the glare.

"You didn't WIN. You CHEATED."

"It's not cheating."

"It is totally cheating when you're not even ticklish."

"You wouldn't even know if I was ticklish because you're so busy LOSING and pillow fights AND tickle fights to even get a retaliation in."

"I hate you so much," Mello muttered, looking over to the plate of pastries in the middle of the table, noticing they all probably had enough sugar intake for the entire day, and then glanced over to Light's box of granola cereal, and instead looked back at Matt, who shrugged and grabbed a pastry which looked as if it had a lemon filling.

Mello resorted to just sipping his coffee.

"The croissants have chocolate in them," L commented lightly.

Mello's hand instantly shot out and grabbed one.

"I read all the files you brought over last night. What did you make of them when you read them?" L asked, tired eyes staring at Mello.

Mello stopped mid-bite of his croissant and froze a little, thinking that this must be a test, until he remembered that they weren't in school anymore and L apparently already thought him an idiot, as he went and named Near as his successor.

"Well," Mello started after he finished chewing. "There doesn't seem to be anything about where it currently is or what exactly it is, only where it's been, so trying to find its location would be pretty impossible at this point. I was thinking maybe going to the place it was last recorded being at and going from there."

"That was in . . . Germany if I remember correctly. But why waste a trip to Japan? There's a company here that's still in existence that had it about seven years ago, so maybe you could start by going there and finding out something about the exact nature of the book before setting out on a world-wide hunt for it."

If Mello didn't admire L so much, he would have wanted to punch him for implying that his plan was misguided.

"I guess we could do that . . . I mean, we are already here and everything," Mello conceded, biting moodily into his croissant.

"Or you could . . ." Light started to suggest something, but Mello interrupted.

"Shut up. I don't like you. Don't talk to me."

"Well, that wasn't very fair."

"NEITHER IS KILLING PEOPLE!"

And that's how Matt and Mello ended up in a rented car on their way into Roppongi to visit the company. Matt had hacked into their computers and had deleted their two o'clock appointment and put him and Mello there instead.

"I feel like they're going to be a little bit confused when we show up as they're probably expecting a business meeting and I'm wearing leather and you're wearing," Mello cast a glance over to Matt sitting in the passenger seat of the car. "That."

Matt glared over at Mello. "I look dead sexy and you know it."

"Mmhmm. Keep telling yourself that."

Soon after Mello and Matt were in the Yotabitsu Corporation building, on their way up to the fourteeth floor conference room.

"Matt . . . did you have to put in the company name as 'Gods of Awesome'?" Mello was hanging his head in shame and disbelief.

"Oh come on – that's totally the best name ever."

"IF YOU'RE TWELVE," Mello probably would have yelled more if the elevator doors hadn't open and they were greeted by a large conference room, five men sitting as one end of the conference table.

All five of the men looked at the elevator, and even though seemingly shocked by the appearance of their business meeting partners, all stood up politely and bowed, not sitting down again until Mello and Matt were seated at the table.

"So you two are the representatives for the Gods of Awesome company from New York, correct?" The company president, who was previously identified to them at the front desk as Mr. Koide, said.

Mello resisted the urge to bang his head against the table.

Matt just smiled a little bit. "Yes, but we actually didn't come here to talk business."

"No?" Koide asked, looking around in surprise to his business associates.

"No, actually," Mello jumped in before Matt could do anything else outrageously stupid. "We actually came here to talk to you about a book you received around seven years ago from an international bank based out of Switzerland."

Koide looked warily at Mello. "We gave that book to a company in China five years ago."

Mello already knew this from the documentation he had originally gotten. "Yeah, I don't really care who has it now. I just want to know what the hell it is, exactly."

"You want the book for your company?"

"What? No. We were just told about it by . . . a business associate and wanted to know more about it, and since we were in the area, we thought we'd ask about it."

"You're looking for the book?"

"No – I just said . . ."

"We'll give you the equivalent of 1.5 million dollars if you find it and give it back to us."

Mello resisted the innate impulse of his jaw to drop at this statement. He started to refuse and say that they were just inquiring to the exact nature of the book when Matt interrupted him.

"Deal."

Mello could no longer fight any reactions. His jaw definitely dropped this time.

When they were back outside after the meeting, walking to the car, Mello had to fight the urge to punch Matt in the face very, very hard.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"

"What the hell was what? They just paid us three hundred thousand dollars on the spot!"

"WE ALREADY HAVE A DEAL THAT LEACH DOUCHEBAG!"

"So? I really don't even think this shit exists. I think it's just some prestige thing that companies want other companies to think they have. Did you hear them talking about it? All this crap about how it's instant power over the international market and holds bribes for every company that could possibly be your competition? Nothing like that exists, it sounds a little crazy."

"Crazier than a notebook that kills people?" Mello mumbled.

"Whatever – we'll just keep the money we have now and then say we couldn't find it."

"What if we do find it?!"

"Well, these guys offered us more money for it."

"MATT!"

"Don't act so morally outraged. They're all shitheads. There is absolutely nothing wrong with stealing money from shitheads."

Mello really, really wanted to scream right then but instead followed Matt's lead and got into the car.

"This is so fucking stupid. You should have just let me talk. You always use the dumbest, most irrational means to get shit done and it's always done by whatever would be the most fun. At least I use sense!"

"And look where that's gotten you. Chill out, Mel, it'll be fine."

Mello purposely hit his head off the steering wheel. "I know this isn't going to end well."

---------------------------

Put this up real quick before running to class. If I missed something in the edit/preview, let me knowww!

Also, that whole thing where everyone reviewed last time and made me wicked happy? Yeahhh, do that again! Please :)


	7. The Preyingmantis

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone! So this took me a ridiculously long time to post, I know. But I did get it done as fast as I could! And to make up for it, I think it's my longest chapter to date. I don't really like how it started, but I do like the last half of the chapter. Hopefully I will get more time to write in the near future, but it doesn't look that way thanks to term paper deadlines creeping up and other stupid shit. But without further delay: chapter 7. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything. I wish I did, because then I might not be a poor college student.

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Mello opened his eyes the next morning and let out a sigh. He didn't get much sleep the night before, and him and Matt were leaving in a few hours to go to the last known scene of the book in Germany.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and looked over at Matt, who was still sleeping. Instead of finding his incoherent mumbling cute, Mello was just pissed off at him today. For real this time. So instead of waking him up nicely, he hit him in the side of the head with a pillow.

Rather than waking up, Matt just rolled over a little and mumbled "Tell Roger 'm not goin' to class."

"Matt, you fuck, get up!" This time it was a pillow to the front of the face.

"Why are you yelling already?"

"BECAUSE I HATE YOU RIGHT NOW!"

Matt opened his eyes fully and looked over at Mello. "Does that mean you love me the rest of the time?"

"I find you tolerable when you're not fucking up business plans."

"I didn't fuck anything up. Calm down. It will be fine."

"We're gonna have some sort of hit out on us by the time this is done with if you keep making deals with EVERYONE."

"Whatever. You like shooting at people."

"MATT!"

"Okay, fine. I won't accept any more money from anyone else."

"Thank you. Now wake the fuck up, we have a plane to catch," Mello said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up.

Light and L had driven Matt and Mello to the airport. After they had checked in their bags and were saying bye, Mello did something extremely stupid. Maybe it was because he was over tired. Maybe it was because he was in an incredibly bad mood. Maybe it was because Matt was such a fucking idiot that it caused him to be in a really bad mood.

Whatever the reason was, as they were all standing there chatting, Mello continuously glaring at L. And then he noticed how his too-gray eyes with too-huge pupils looked a lot like Near's. And that's when he stopped thinking and started talking.

"Why did you pick Near?"

L looked over at Mello and to his credit, did not look the least bit taken aback by the question. Matt, also to his credit, asked Light some probably really dumb question, but it prevented the two of them from just staring at L and Mello.

"I thought that would have been obvious," L responded to Mello's question.

"Well apparently not. Because apparently I'm fucking stupid or not good enough or whatever."

"It had nothing to do with that, Mello."

"Then why did you pick him?"

"Because I like you."

"Because you . . . what? Should I be getting creeped out now? Should Kira be getting jealous?"

L smiled a little. "Because you're a good person, Mello, and I genuinely enjoy your presence. Therefore, I like you."

Mello was about to respond back as he was thoroughly confused, but the first boarding call for him and Matt's flight rang over the intercom and they hadn't even been through security yet.

"Well, thanks you two for having us. We have a flight to catch. We'll be in touch!" Matt called out as he dragged a still very confused Mello alongside him.

Second time on a plane with Matt in two weeks and this time it was Mello who was freaking out before the plane even took off.

"Will you stop fidgeting? Jeez," Matt sighed, clicking on his DS.

"Why did he say that to me? It made absolutely no sense. I bet it was absolute bullshit," Mello fumed from his seat.

"It wasn't bullshit Mello, and it made perfect sense."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. L didn't even want to be L. It makes people insufferable and boring. And since Near is already both of those things, although I don't think he's as bad as you do, it really wasn't such a big burden for him. It was the logical choice."

"But I wanted it so badly."

"But then you wouldn't be the same person. Mel, I've told you this a thousand times. You're much better off just being Mello. I like you a hell of a lot more this way. Even if you do get mad at me for stupid things. Like getting us more money."

"It was fucking stupid and you know it."

"Just . . . go to sleep. Or get drunk. Or get drunk and fall asleep. You look like shit – did you even sleep last night?"

Mello glared at him. "You're really racking up points on the me forgiving you scale, huh Matt?"

"I'm serious, Mel. You look tired. Sleep."

Mello was thoroughly planning on glaring at Matt and giving him shit the entire plane ride, but he must have fallen asleep at some point, and Matt must have been correct about him being ridiculously tired, because when he woke up they were landing in Potsdam.

When they were outside with their baggage, Mello was still having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

"You can take a nap when we get to the hotel," Matt commented to Mello, who was leaning slightly against him while he smoked a cigarette outside the airport.

"No. We have to find this person who had the book thingy last. And based on the file, he seems like a shady motherfucker," Mello half-mumbled into Matt's shoulder.

"Oh well, it should be easy for you then right? I mean, aren't these your former people?"

Mello leaned upright and glared at Matt. "Are you making a joke about me being Russian and East Germany being a former Soviet satellite?"

Matt looked offended. "Mel, I would never make fun of you."

"Oh, fuck you. Why don't we stop somewhere so you can find some tea and crumpets you dumb fuck?"

Matt grinned and put out his cigarette. "You know I like coffee so much more," and then he went off to find a taxi for the hotel.

"This fucking document is useless and only gives a business address," Mello complained, leaning over a table in the hotel they had ended up staying in.

Matt was too busy searching through the stocked mini fridge, deciding which beer looked like the best one to chug.

Mello looked over at him. "Can you focus for like, eight seconds?"

"No. What do you think . . . Weizen . . . bock . . . tastes like?"

Mello only responded with a glare.

"Okay, fine, what are you bitching about?"

"There's only a business address listed on this transaction document, and they're probably not even really there because it's some sketchy warehouse address."

"Well, no one's going to put their home address on a business deal," Matt concluded logically, deciding the beer would have to be okay and opening it.

"Well, maybe people should start so this shit will be easier," Mello mumbled, looking back at the Google Maps image on the laptop.

"We could always just drop by and see what's there."

"Oh yeah, because just 'dropping by' a secluded area of sketchy warehouses sounds like a great idea, Matt."

"Well, as much fun as having a little vacation in Germany and drinking a lot sounds, this is where the paper trail ends up and if we want to find the next place the book went to, or if it's still in this person's possession, then we have to go to Sketchville."

Mello sighed. "I suppose you're right."

Mello stopped their rented car a few feet short of the first warehouse in a long row of them.

"This place looks like it should be condemned," he muttered, putting the car in park.

"Probably is," Matt agreed cheerily, opening his door and stepping out of the car. "Which means the business is either no longer here, or an entirely illegal operation. Did they have a company name?"

"No. They had a PO Box and this address."

"Super illegal," Matt concluded. "I bet it's still here. What number did you say it was?"

"Thirteen. What an awesome address for the sketchiest place on Earth."

"You and your stupid superstitions."

"I'm not superstitious!"

"You refused to make your bed on any day when we had an exam in school. Because apparently in the process of pulling your covers straight, you would have forgotten everything."

"I still did better than you."

"I didn't give a shit," Matt countered as they began walking along the rows of warehouses.

Mello eyed the door of warehouse number thirteen as him and Matt approached it.

"Someone definitely still uses this," Mello said quietly.

"How the hell can you conclude that?"

"The whole rest of the building is rusted, but the cracks where the door opens and closes is completely free of any buildup. Therefore, it gets opened frequently. Stand behind me while I open the door," Mello said, pulling out his gun.

"Why? Protecting my life?"

"Yes, actually."

"Oh, Mel, you're so sweet."

Mello rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

Luckily, Mello thought, the door opened inward and gave way with a few kicks directed towards where the latch was. Unluckily, the door made a hell of a lot of noise as it opened.

Mello cringed inwardly at the noise, knowing it would signal anyone inside of their arrival, along with the flood of light that came in with the opening of the door into the darkened warehouse. He peeked his head inside, and not noticing anyone directly near him, walked in a few steps.

The warehouse was filled with every kind of computer Mello had ever seen, wiring running up the walls and ceilings and down along the floor. The computers were connected to other computers, and printers, and modems, and things that he had no fucking clue what they were. The warehouse was just one big, vast room, and Mello quickly concluded there was no one inside.

"Leave the door open or it'll be dark as fuck in here," Mello instructed Matt, lowering his gun.

"But what if the person drives by and then they notice we're in here?"

"It'd suck just as worse if they came in when it was closed – if it's open we can hear someone approaching and make a quicker escape."

Matt shrugged, not really caring one way or another, and went over to one of the tables to look at the computers on it.

"This is definitely something of a hacking operation, and they have the craziest shit ever, and I am so totally jealous," Matt said, sitting down at the table, placing his laptop next to one of the computers.

"Can you stop being a dork for a few minutes and actually find out something useful?" Mello asked as he moved to the back of the warehouse toward a desk and a filing cabinet, which he noticed after his eyes had adjusted to the relative darkness of the building.

Sighing, he sat down at the desk chair and looked at the piles of papers stacked on top of the desk, with more flowing out the filing cabinet. He wished there was some way they could take all this crap back to the hotel with them, but knowing that was impossible, Mello instead started to flip through the stack of papers closest to him.

Mello's eyes widened when out of the corner of his eye he noticed a silhouette form in the sunlight from outside, and then the light fade a little as the door creaked halfway closed. Instinctively, Mello fell to the floor and got cover behind the tall filing cabinet, hoping Matt had enough time and common sense to do something similar. Knowing the improbability of that, seeing as how Matt was so much closer to the entrance and was probably too busy getting a boner over hacking technology, Mello snuck a glace around the filing cabinet.

Sure enough, his assumptions were correct. Matt was standing up now, thankfully facing the direction toward Mello, grinning nervously in that way he always did when things weren't going his way, and a man was facing him, back turned towards Mello. It was while Mello was running through all the ways to sneak up on this guy and hit him over the head with something, that Mello noticed a knife in the man's hand and all logic flew out the window.

As quickly as he could without making a shit ton of noise, Mello got up from behind the filing cabinet and moved towards Matt. Matt, to his credit, kept on talking about god knows what in a slightly louder voice to cover up any noise Mello made. Unfortunately, the man must have noticed the slight difference, and also how Matt's gaze was directed slightly over his shoulder, as he turned around when Mello was just a few feet away from him. The man spun around and placed the knife at Matt's neck just as Mello was raising his gun.

Mello internally panicked, but he had to give himself credit as his raised arm was not shaking at all. Matt, however, looked like he was five seconds away from a full-blown panic attack. Matt's sarcastic comment of "protecting my life?" from earlier kept running through Mello's head as he mentally ran through every curse word in every language he knew. This was not supposed to happen over something so fucking stupid as a dumb book wanted by rich bastards. That was not something Matt should die over.

"If you think a little scrawny kid and a girly boy are going to intimidate me, you're wrong," the man's thick, German voice snapped Mello out of his internal battle.

His eyes narrowed and he flicked the safety off his gun in a brief moment of illogical anger, but he stopped his finger from gripping the trigger when he noticed just how close that knife was to Matt's throat.

"Put the gun down."

"You first."

The man looked at Mello, seemingly amused. "So Red here was telling me about how you were just looking for some information on a book and how you didn't mean any harm."

"Sounds about right," Mello responded noncommittally.

"Someone paying you to find it or is it out of personal interest?"

Mello thought about the best way to answer that. "We're being paid."

"How much?"

Fuck. Mello knew Matt's laptop was still on the table and there would be easy access to the bank accounts the money was in, so there was no way he could lie. But then he remembered that they had put the money from Leach and the money from the Japanese company in two different bank accounts.

"Three hundred thousand."

The man gestured at the computer on the table. "Put the gun down, transfer the money, and I'll let you leave."

Mello was a bit confused. Fuck if he knew how to transfer money from one account to another. Sure, he could do it on his little online banking from his savings to his checking, but he had the feeling this was a whole different deal. It was probably different banks, and fuck if he knew how to do it from one computer to another. And his number one priority was to get the knife as far away from Matt as possible.

"He does that sort of thing a whole lot better than me. Technology isn't really my thing."

"No? Just guns and pretending to be a badass are?"

Mello didn't dignify that one with an answer, nor did he lower his gun any.

"Put your gun down and I'll let him go do it, then."

Mello mentally cursed again. Was it really safe to put the gun down? Staring at the man's hand, he was thankful it wasn't shaking, because that meant he wasn't nervous and therefore hopefully wouldn't do anything irrational. Or he could just be a psychopath. On another logical thought, Mello noticed it was a pocket knife, and therefore not really unusual to carry around, therefore lessening the chances of psychopath. With an inward grimace, Mello lowered his arm and put the gun away, thankful when the man did the same with his knife.

Mello's eyes never left the man as he was busy alternately glaring back at Mello and looking over Matt's shoulder to see what he was doing on the computers. When Matt was done and it was apparently satisfactory to the man, Matt grabbed his computer, closed it, and pulled Mello out of there as fast as he could, and then moved as fast as possible to the car.

"I don't think I have ever been that scared in my life," Matt breathed a deep sigh of relief when they were both safely inside of the car.

"I half expected you to try to make a deal with him, too," Mello commented idly, turning the car on.

Matt glared. "Shut up. He was essentially a certifiable psychopath."

Mello shrugged and started driving back to the hotel. "We're fucked now on what to do. The trail ends with him and he didn't give us any information on anything, and it's not like we can just waltz back in and ask nicely."

"I may have been scared as fuck, Mel, but I'm not stupid."

"What the hell are you getting at?"

Matt flipped open and turned on the computer again. "When the computers were connected for bank transfers, I assumed that was the main computer for his whatever fucked up business, and I kind of copied all his files onto this computer."

"Without him noticing?!"

"Well, I did it in between his staring match with you. And when it's two pretty decent computers, it really doesn't take that much time. The hard drive wasn't really full or anything, he probably uses it for coding and shit most of the time, but there might be something on there that would give us a clue about the book. He probably wanted the transfer for the money, and there's a slight probability he got information off my computer too, but he was probably expecting us to be idiots and I have shit set up to protect against that sort of thing, but some of it might have gotten through."

When they were back in the safety of the hotel again, Mello quickly returned the rented car so it wouldn't be traced back to their hotel room in case the guy really was a psychopath and was just going to come kill them that night. When he got back up to the room, he found Matt staring intently at the computer, and grinning a little.

"Find anything good?"

Matt nodded hurriedly. "We're going to Vegas!"

"He sold it to someone in Vegas?"

"No. He lost it to a blackjack dealer named . . . Andrew Lancaster . . . when he got really really drunk one night and owed the table some money, apparently."

"That's embarrassing."

"Yep. And he saved the emails in his documents probably was going to go try and get it back, and there's history of a printed label for the shipment of it, and it was fairly recently – within the last six months – so it might still be there. And we now know it weighs . . . 57 ounces!"

"I may or may not be in love with you."

"I try to keep my work relationships strictly professional," Matt responded, to which Mello rolled his eyes and stole the laptop from him to make flight reservations.

"Thanks for saving my life, Mel."

"Thanks for not getting killed, dumbass."

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Yaaaay. One more chapter down and it only took me what? A month to post it since the last one? :(

Please reviewwwww. I keep getting a lot of repeat readers based on story stats, which I am happy about and makes me ASSUME that people like it. But if you do like it and you do keep on reading it, please let me know in a little review! Or if you think it sucks, you can let me know that too.

Thanks!


	8. Being Submerged in Your Contradictions

**Author's Note**: So - I got this chapter up sooner than the last one - do I get an award for that? Still, it is kind of late - and I apologize, school has been very very busy for me. Also - I wrote/edited this chapter in the midst of both watching The West Wing and writing a European politics paper on the consolidation of democracies in Southern Europe and in post-Soviet states. I blame any weirdness of this chapter on that. I hope everyone enjoys!

**Disclaimer**: Don't own.

* * *

Mello sighed as he blinked his eyes a few times. He waited for them to adjust and see some source of light, but they never did, even after a few minutes of him rapidly blinking. Sitting up a little, he looked around to garner some kind of clue as to where the fuck he was. That's when he noticed he was leaning up against a filing cabinet and there was a crack of light coming from the other end of the room. Closing his eyes in on the source of light, he noticed it was coming through the slats of a heavy, armored door. Fuck – when did he return to the warehouse? Why didn't he remember coming back here? More importantly – where the hell was Matt?

Mello peered around the filing cabinet half expecting to see the same scenario as the previous day, which yes, did seem a little crazy, but it was the most logical conclusion he could come to when he was in such a situation. Instead he saw absolutely nothing. Now he was intrigued.

He slowly moved away from behind the filing cabinet and closer to the front of the warehouse warily. Peeking behind random desks and cabinets, he didn't find anyone or hear any movement.

Risking being vocal, Mello called out a wary "Hello?" only to no response. " . . . Matt?" He cautioned again, getting no answer once more.

Getting closer to the front of the warehouse, Mello noticed that Matt's laptop was lying once more on the desk, as it had been the first time. Glancing around wildly, he knew Matt must have been in here at some point in time. And then he saw it. On the other side of the desk, Matt was lying on the ground, throat slit and a knife inches from him on the cold, concrete floor.

Mello felt dizzy. He couldn't breathe, and he wanted to both cry and throw up at the same time. Clutching onto the nearest solid object, Mello slowly melted to the ground on his knees. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes and was five seconds away from sobbing until his whole world seemed to shift.

"We're landing in half an hour, Mel."

Mello opened his eyes to the obnoxious false light of an airplane. He had jumped awake suddenly, causing Matt to look at him strangely.

"We're what . . . ?" Mello asked, still trying to orient himself, and partially wanting to reach out and make sure Matt was real.

"We're landing in half an hour," Matt repeated, pointing to the in-flight navigation map on the back of the seat in front of him.

"Oh, yeah okay . . ." Mello could feel tears in his eyes and his throat was dry, and he discreetly tried to wipe the moisture away from his eyes and clear his throat.

No such luck.

"Mello, are you okay?" Matt asked, leaning around the armrest so Mello couldn't avoid his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just . . ." Mello looked at him closely. Matt was blinking, he was breathing, and he was seemingly still alive. Would it be so weird to make sure he was solid?

Throwing up the armrest between them, Mello flung his arms around Matt and dragged him over to his side of the seat and held him closely.

"Uh . . . Mel? This isn't really the most comfortable position I've ever been in."

"Shut up," Mello breathed into Matt's hair, clinging on to him tighter.

He couldn't hold it in anymore. He loosened his death grip on Matt, who inched back closer to his own seat, and was looking at Mello warily, and finally Mello just rested his forehead on Matt's shoulder and sobbed.

"Mel . . . this really isn't the best place to be having a mental breakdown."

"I'm not having a goddamn mental breakdown!" Mello yelled back in between choked sobs and sniffles. "It's your goddamn fault. Why couldn't you have just been more careful? You could have DIED and then I don't know what I would have done and I NEED you and you're the only one who would put up with me ever and you're my goddamn fucking best friend in the whole world who I may or may not be secretly in love with and GODDAMNIT, MATT, YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE ME BECAUSE IF YOU LEAVE THEN EVERYTHING TURNS TO SHIT AND I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE. AND I'M NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT THE GODDAMN CASE – IT'S LIFE. I WOULD SUCK AT LIVING IF YOU WEREN'T AROUND."

Matt looked stunned for a second, and looked as if he was going to say something, and then thought better of it. Instead he just ran his fingers continuously through Mello's hair while he sniffled.

"Mello. I know you're a bit of an attention whore, but I don't think you'd want half the plane staring at you while you yell and cry. Do you want to go into the bathroom to calm down?"

"No. Don't call me an attention whore," Mello muttered as he extracted himself from Matt, embarrassed, and leaned back against his own seat.

"Facts are facts, Mels."

"I'M NOT AN ATTENTION WHORE." And then everyone's eyes in their vicinity of the plane were on them again, but quickly turned away when Mello shot them all a death glare, which was still intimidating no matter how bloodshot his eyes were from crying and sleep.

"If you say so," Matt sighed and watched the plane on the screen descend into the airport, smiling a little because Mello was back to some semblance of his normal self. Which meant that he was yelling at him again.

-

Mello was quiet throughout the whole ordeal of getting their luggage, getting into a cab, and checking into the hotel. Matt had tried many times to make conversation, and was stopped with blank stares and one-word answers. Mello wasn't particularly in the mood to make conversation, as he knew he had undoubtedly just told Matt he was probably in love with him, and a number of witnesses were around on the plane and now within the same city as them who heard it very clearly. When they had gotten upstairs into their suite, Matt dropped his luggage on the floor, closed the door, and looked at Mello seriously, who was sitting at a dining room table in the main room.

"Okay. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Well, CLEARLY something is wrong with you as I purposely booked a ridiculous suite in Caesar's Palace just to piss you off and you haven't even yelled at me yet."

Mello spared a quick glance around and noted that the suite, with its two floors and too many rooms, was accurately described as ridiculous, but instead of voicing this conclusion instead shrugged and said, "it's fine."

Matt said down across the table from Mello. "Really Mello – what the fuck?"

"I'm done. I want to go home. Fuck this."

Matt sighed. "You're not serious, Mello. I don't know what the fuck happened, but you flipped out on me on the plane, and now you won't talk to me."

Mello decided to be truthful. "You make me crazy."

"No kidding. You've told me multiple times that I'm an idiot and I drive you crazy and I do everything wrong. I can deal with that, and I can deal with you yelling at me. I've dealt with it from the better part of my life, from you yelling at me for leaving the light on at Wammy's because you needed your 'beauty sleep' or if I ever ate with Near because apparently if I ate with him I would catch something, and even now you still pick fights with me over the dumbest things and you either only do it because it's a natural reaction or you like being an asshole – I think it's a little bit of both – but that's fine, because that's you and I actually take comfort in that. If you don't flip out about something insignificant at least three times a day, something is seriously wrong. So really Mel, what the fuck happened? I mean, if it was something serious or whatever – you know you can tell me. I'm sure I've heard worse things from you but –"

Mello was suddenly under the impression that Matt just talked for as long as possible when he really didn't know what the fuck to say. Instead of listening to him, Mello got up and walked into the kitchen to find hopefully a mini fridge stocked full of booze.

Unsurprisingly, Matt followed him.

"Mello! You can't just walk away when I'm in the middle of talking. I know when something's wrong with you and when you're just being a bitch to be a bitch, but something is definitely wrong."

Mello rolled his eyes, got a bottle of beer out of the fridge – thank god it was fully stocked – popped the cap off on the counter, and took a deep drink.

"Matt, don't talk to me right now."

"We're going to talk right now."

"No we're not," Mello replied with an air of finality, downing another half of his bottle in one chug.

"We're going to have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is as good of a time as any."

Mello put the bottle down on the counter, staring at it for a few seconds and then finally staring at Matt for a few more. He was scared more than anything. Scared Matt would leave, scared he wouldn't understand, scared he would ruin everything. He would much rather have his friend than anything else following whatever he had screamed about on the plane.

Mello came to a decision and then decided it was best not to think about that decision. Because if he thought about it too much, then he might change his mind, or at the very least – and probably the very worst – he'd turn into Matt and talk about it for roughly an hour too long.

Fuck it. Moving across the length of the kitchen, Mello pushed Matt roughly against the cabinets along the kitchen's walls, because nothing he ever did was particularly gentle or well thought out, but it seemed to work most of the time, and kissed Matt. And when he felt Matt kissing him back, he decided that once again, not thinking turned out to be the best course of action for him.

When they broke apart for air, Matt mumbled, "Was that to get me to shut up or did you actually want to kiss me?"

"I wanted you to shut up," Mello responded before kissing him for another full minute. "That was because I actually wanted to kiss you."

"Oh, okay, well, as long as we cleared that up . . ." Matt said, looking a little bewildered. "Was that what the whole 'may or may not be in love with you' comment on the plane was about?"

"Are you actually as stupid as you look?"

"Well – if you go by appearance stereotypes – redheads are supposed to be stereotypically intelligent and blonds are the ones who, if you go by stereotypes, 'look' stupid."

". . . Were you planning on getting laid anytime in the near future?"

"Well, up until you just said that, I hadn't really seen it in my general future, no."

Mello studied Matt carefully again for a few moments.

"You know, Mel, it kind of creeps me out when you do that because now I'm not sure if you're going to punch me or kiss me. It's kind of a strange thought process that goes on and -"

"You died."

"I – uh – I did what?"

"On the plane. I had a dream. We were back in that warehouse and I thought I was alone and I went looking for you and I couldn't find you and then you were on the ground because that guy did kill you in my dream. And then I panicked because I realized how much life would suck if you weren't around."

"Oh . . . that's actually kind of sweet. Not that you think about me dying in your subconscious, but that it affected you so much. Are you going to tell me you love me now?"

"Absolutely not."

Mello started stalking around the suite, peering into the different rooms. "Where the fuck is the bedroom?"

"They're upstairs."

Mello turned and stared at Matt. "This place is absolutely fucking ridiculous."

"I knew you'd say it eventually," Matt smiled. "And the kid we're looking for works in the casino downstairs, which is why I booked it."

"You couldn't have picked a normal room?" Mello asked as he picked up his luggage and moved up the stairs.

"Well, that wouldn't have been as much fun," Matt said as he followed Mello up the stairs, his own luggage in hand.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Mello turned to Matt and asked, "So we're going to see that guy tonight?"

"Well. No. The casino puts their employee scheduling online through email, so I just HAPPENED to stumble upon his email and he is not working tonight, but is working tomorrow afternoon. So we would have a night off, but I'm assuming you'll still want to work on something, which means we won't have much fun."

Mello rolled his eyes. "If you want to go gamble, you can but you probably already spent all the fucking money on this goddamn ridiculous suite."

"It wasn't too much money," Matt shrugged. And then they both stood awkwardly at the top of the stairs. "Uh, well, I figured booking a suite with two bedrooms would be the most logical thing . . . but now I guess that's a little complicated, so um . . . I guess I'll ask – what would you like the sleeping arrangements to be?"

Mello stared at him for a second, then grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him along to the bedroom to the left, throwing both his and Matt's luggage to some forgotten corner when they got in there. Closing the door, he slammed Matt up against it and kissed him again.

"You know, Mel, I'm going to have bruises and quite possibly a headache if you keep on throwing me into hard surfaces," Matt said when they broke apart.

Mello tried very hard to refrain from making a 'that's what she said' joke, and Matt noticed as he rolled his eyes and said, "you're ridiculous."

"No. Do you know what's ridiculous?"

"This fucking suite, I know. The bathrooms are nice and big! And there's walk-in closets!"

"Because that's exactly what we need on a few nights trip for WORK."

"I have noticed in bigger bathrooms they usually have a flattering lighting which makes my hair look a shade of red I particularly like."

"And that's why you booked a two-floor suite in Caesar's Palace?"

"Kind of, yeah. I mean – why not? We will never get this opportunity ever again. I can do things for ridiculous reasons with someone else's money. There was a suite that had different themes for every room and one of the bedrooms looked like it was a pool, but I worried you might actually kill me for booking that."

"Damn right I would have," Mello responded as he once again grabbed Matt's shirt and pushed him over to the bed, lips on his again.

The back of Matt's knees hit the edge of the bed, and he let himself fall backwards onto the bed, and Mello crawled on top of him.

"Really? This is the way it's going to go?" Matt asked, staring up at Mello.

"Well how the fuck else would you expect it to go?"

"Well – you look girlier than me."

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're the one worried about the shade of your hair color in certain lighting. This is the way it's going to go and you're going to like it."

"Oh well, okay. If you say so."

"And that's exactly why you're the bottom," Mello said as he smiled and kissed Matt before he could come up with some kind of comeback. Matt settled for rolling his eyes.

"Have you ever done this before?" Matt asked when after they had both successfully undressed each other.

"What? When the fuck would I have had the time to do this before?"

"Well, I don't know. I've never done it before."

"I've read about it."

"Well that's reassuring."

"What the fuck do you need to be reassured about? It's sex."

"I don't know – is it going to hurt?"

"Of course it's going to fucking hurt. That's the way it goes."

"Well that's not very fair."

"Matt – are you seriously going to back out of this now? We're both fucking naked and turned on and you're worrying about it hurting?"

Matt glared at him. "Shut up – you'd be worried about it to."

Mello sighed. "I will try my very hardest to make it hurt the least amount possible," he said and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

"Thank you. That's all I ask."

"Glad I could oblige," Mello muttered as he looked around the room for something to use as lube. "There's fucking two floors, eight couches, a bajillion chairs, a fucking wet bar and a walk-in closet in this place, you would think it would also come fully stocked with sex supplies."

"Just use the fucking lotion on the table."

"Oh, right, good call."

Mello grabbed the lotion off the bedside table, uncapped it, and squeezed some out onto his fingers. Deciding it would work well enough, he carefully slipped a finger into Matt, who squirmed a little but made no vocal protest, so Mello eventually added two more. Moving them around a little, he must have done something right, because Matt's arms pulled him down for a heated kiss and his legs wrapped around Mello's waist tighter. Taking that as a cue for the next step, Mello used the lotion once again as lube on himself, and slid into Matt slowly.

"Does it hurt?" Mello asked, as Matt's eyes were shut, but there was barely any emotion on his face.

"Yes."

"I told you so."

"Can you just shut up and get to the good part?"

"Yeah, I guess I could do that."

Mello would have found it hard not to. The feeling felt absolutely intoxicating, and he had always imagined something this intimate to be scary, and something he never wanted to share with anyone ever. He never wanted anyone to see him this vulnerable. He felt uncomfortable seeing other people this vulnerable. But with Matt it really wasn't a huge deal, it actually felt like a natural next step in their crazy, fucked-up relationship.

Mello had built up a decent pace, and Matt tentatively at first moved along with it, but now met every thrust with his own, and when he came, it was mumbling Mello's name into his lips, and Mello soon followed suit.

Pulling out, Mello flopped down on the bed next to Matt.

"See, it wasn't so bad."

"Easy for you to say," Matt huffed and lit a cigarette.

"Do you have to smoke in bed?"

"Yes. Simply for the reason that I want a post-coital cigarette because I have always wanted to use the phrase 'post-coital cigarette.'"

"Sometimes I really want to hate you."

"Do you still want to go home?"

"Don't be a fucking idiot. Of course I don't want to go home. I am going to find this fucking book and I am going to do it amazingly well."

"I thought so. Hey Mel?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"Mmhmm."

"I SAID – I love you."

"I know – I heard you. That's nice."

"Mello!"

"Okay, fine. I love you too, you fucking annoying son of a bitch."

Matt smiled as he put out his cigarette in an empty cup next to the bed. "That's all I wanted to hear."

-----------------

I struggled a lot with how to write this chapter. It was a pretty romance based chapter, and I originally wrote it that way, but then I realized it didn't fit in with the Mello and Matt I constructed in this story, and changed it to be like this. So I'm sorry if you don't agree with the way it was written, but it's the way I think fits the characters best.

And I took time out of my crazyhectic schedule to write this because both: I wanted to first and foremost, and I know some people are waiting for this to be updated. So if you are one of those people who was waiting for this to be updated:

REVIEW~

And I will love you forever.


	9. Dance in the Dark

**Author's Note**: SO. In case anyone noticed – I disappeared real quick for roughly – oh, two months? Sorry bout that one, guys. I have reasons! Meaning excuses. Being the end of the semester and I am currently in a fierce battle against bronchitis, which is currently winning as I am mildly allergic to essentially any antibiotic. AND. Most exciting excuse: I'm flying out to study abroad in Japan on January 6th, and am trying to get all my shit together. Nonetheless – a chapter! Think of it as an (albeit belated; I can't do anything on time) Christmas present.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own itttt.

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"Goddamn mother fucking piece of shit dieeeeee . . . cocksucking bitchhh," _tap tap tap. Pound pound pound_. "Auuuugggghhhh!"

"Matt . . . if you're going to play video games at stupidly early hours in the morning every morning after we fuck, I'm never sleeping with you ever again," Mello mumbled into a pillow.

"You don't understaaand. I'm on the stupid DK board in Mario Party and I JUST passed the star splurge space and then fucking it was final five frenzy and Bowser – that dick – made it so that starts are only 5 coins and Mario's like, THREE spaces away from the star and he has like FIFTY COINS!"

"Matt . . ."

"THAT'S TEN STARS!"

"I'm glad you can do math. Now shut the fuck up, turn the volume off on that stupid fucking game, and let me sleep until I don't want to murder you."

"Good morning to you too, SWEETHEART."

"Shut the fuck up and die."

--------------

Later on, when Mello had woken himself up at a more respectable hour, he rolled over and threw an arm over the other side of the bed, only to have it bounce a bit due to the contact with the mattress springs. He cracked open one eye. Where the fuck was Matt?

"Matt?" He started slowly. "Matt?! MATT – WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

Attempting to get out of bed, Mello instead found his legs tangled in the sheets and did more of a roll-fall onto the room's carpeted floor. Matt popped his head out of the adjoining bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth.

"I'm right fucking here. Chill out. Why are you on the ground?"

"Because this lovely carpet which probably hasn't been cleaned in months is just so much more comfortable than the bed."

"Oh. 'Kay," Matt responded as he closed the door to the bathroom again.

When Mello was dressed and downstairs, sipping coffee, Matt came down the stairs eventually and joined him.

"Are you more sociable at this hour, Mello?"

Mello glared at him over his coffee cup.

"Well, I suppose that's better than death threats," Matt said as he sat down.

"Why are you sitting next to me?"

"I can't sit next to you now?"

"You never sit next to me."

"Mel – are you serious right now?"

"You woke me up at eight in the morning. Don't sit next to me."

"I'm fucking sitting next to you."

"Don't expect me to like it."

Matt just rolled his eyes. "So I was talking to Near this morning -"

"Okay – now you're REALLY not sitting next to me. Get the fuck on that chair over there."

"He said he had something to tell you. So I guess you should expect to hear from him."

"Did you tell him to go choke on a dick?"

"I think you're the only one who can really pull that one off, Mel."

Mello sighed and stretched out on the couch, putting his legs on Matt's lap. "What time does that kid start working?"

"Oh – so it's okay for me to sit here if I am your personal footrest?"

"Yep."

"He starts at three."

-------------

Mello walked into the casino, Matt wandering aimlessly near him, looking at everything.

"I never figured so many people would be in a casino at three in the afternoon. Strikes me as an odd time of day to go gamble," Matt commented.

"Half of these people probably haven't gone to bed yet. Where is this kid working today?"

"Um – he's a blackjack dealer."

"Matt – please do me a favor and count the number of blackjack tables in this casino right now."

"Oh. Yeah – good point. It said table 9 on the schedule. Not exactly sure which way it goes. Probably clockwise from the entrance. Sooo . . . that one," Matt concluded, pointing to a table right of where they were.

"Awesome. Go entertain yourself."

Matt pouted a little. "I'm not coming?"

"Fuck no. I'm not going to get any information if I roll up to a blackjack table with my boyfriend. What if I need to flirt with him?"

". . . boyfriend? Really?" Matt got a small, goofy smile on his face.

"Case and point. Go entertain yourself," Mello sighed, pushing Matt gently in the other direction of the blackjack table.

Mello found his way to the table 9, finding it empty. A good sign, as it was nearing three o'clock and that would mean there would be no one at the table when Mello needed to interrogate the blackjack dealer. Mello sat down at one of the empty stools, put money on the table, and looked over the casino as he was waiting, seeing Matt attempting to crack some sort of slot machine code.

"You are aware that there are other tables open," A voice broke Mello out of his reverie.

He turned around to face the table, glancing slightly at the nametag attached to the vest of the late 20-something man in front of him. It said Andrew. Perfect.

"I noticed. But I wanted to play with you."

Mello noticed a strange look directed towards the ground on part of the dealer. So that tactic totally wasn't going to work. Nonetheless, he got dealt chips and the game commenced.

"So I had a question for you," Mello started after a few hands.

"Not interested."

No more being nice. "Not what I was going to ask – but thanks for being a conceited jackass." Well, that got his attention.

"Uhh . . . what did you want to ask?"

"You're Andrew Lancaster, correct?" Mello asked and he got an affirmative nod. "And you received a book roughly six months ago from a crazy . . . German psychopath . . . who couldn't pay you off after a night of drunken gambling."

"Hmm . . . do you have a name?"

"No. That fucker just tried to kill me. Anyway - that doesn't really matter. I need to know where the book is now. Do you still have it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I can offer you a lot of money for it."

"Yeah – no clue what you're talking about."

Mello narrowed his eyes. "You don't want money for it . . . which means you don't have it. What did you do with it?"

"Will you give me money for that?"

"Sure," Mello conceded. What a sleazy fucking scumbag.

"I want . . . a thousand dollars."

"Are you fucking kidding me? I'll give you five hundred."

"Then I'm not telling you anything."

"Fine. I have other means of finding out information," Mello responded carefully, glancing at the cards in front of him.

"I gave it to a prostitute."

"You did what . . . ?"

"I gave it to a prostitute. For sex."

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"She was really hot!"

Mello rolled his eyes. "What else can you tell me about the book?"

"That'll be more money."

"Oh fuck you. You're like a goddamn prostitute yourself. Where is this girl?"

"It was through a company. Like – an escort service," Andrew dug out his wallet from his back pocket, taking out a business card and handing it to Mello.

"Thanks. Nice knowing you."

"Are you going to give me the money?"

"Cash in my chips," Mello said as he walked away, going to find Matt.

He found him running between three different slot machines, to which Mello gave him a questioning look.

"I'm like, SUPER close to getting the jackpot on all three," Matt responded, not even looking up to see the questioning look on Mello's face.

"We have to go."

"Can't it wait like . . ." Matt turned to look between the three machines. "Fifteen minutes?"

"No. I have shit to do," Mello responded, taking hold of Matt's arm and dragging him behind him on his way to the exit.

"You just have to pull it twenty-three more times!" Matt called out to the person claiming one of his seats.

----------

As soon as the two boys had gotten back upstairs to their suite, Mello immediately went up to the bedroom, and got in the shower. Matt, on the other hand, was left wandering the downstairs level, curious as to why they had to leave on such short notice and why Mello hadn't said anything else to him the entire way upstairs.

Matt was contemplating going upstairs himself and joining Mello in the shower, but deduced that the consequences couldn't be entirely determined one way or the other, and decided to play it safe and stay downstairs, thus avoiding any potential bodily harm. When Mello eventually did come downstairs, Matt was sitting at the piano in one of the rooms, laptop propped on top of the grand piano, and he was hitting a few keys every so often.

Mello sat down next to him on the piano bench. "What are you doing?"

"Both answering e-mails and playing piano."

"You don't know how to play the piano."

"I'm learning," Matt replied, pointing to the online tutorial on the browser page.

Mello rolled his eyes. "Who's e-mailing you?"

"Don't say it like no one would ever e-mail me. I am a very important person. I have updated L on the status of the case – which I'm not too sure of myself because you DRAGGED me out of the casino when I was MINUTES away from winning thousands – maybe millions – of dollars. And I had to e-mail you know, those people who are paying us money to find this stupid thing. And Near still wants you to call him. At your earliest convenience, of course."

"I'm not calling Near. I wish you'd stop talking to him. He's creepy."

"You're just jealous because he likes me better."

"Yep – that's it," Mello replied, rolling his eyes and sighing.

Matt smirked a little and looked over at Mello. Eyes slanting a bit, he tugged on the sleeve of the shirt Mello was wearing.

"That's my shirt."

"Astute observation, Jeevas."

Matt pouted. "What if I needed to wear it? Thief."

"You'll get over it."

"So what is this shit that you had to do so badly? I'm sure it wasn't just showering."

"I like being clean. But there were other things, yes," Mello said, pulling out the escort service card and handing it to Matt.

"Really Mel? Going to see prostitutes? Did I really manage to suck so badly in bed that I turned you straight?"

"No, idiot. That's where the book is. The blackjack dealer is a stupid perv and he gave it to some hooker in exchange for sex, I guess."

"Oh. So we're going to pretend that we want a prostitute?"

"Don't be stupid. It's not like they'd carry it around with them. And the idiot couldn't even really remember the girl's name. He thinks it starts with a C – because that's really helpful and all," Mello sighed.

"So . . . what do we do?"

"Pretend to be a prostitute."

Matt looked at Mello incredulously. "That's all on you."

"Are you saying I look like a hooker?"

"Well, you have more apt clothing for it."

"Asshole. You wouldn't be able to HANDLE it."

"Totally would. My middle name is, in fact, 'Danger'."

"Liar."

"Prove it."

"Matt . . . your middle name's not fucking 'Danger.' And no, I don't know your middle name, but don't be ridiculous. And even if you'd want to prove some fucking point now – you're not going."

"I didn't really want to go pretend to be a prostitute – but I totally could if I wanted to!"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"No one else can touch you but me."

"Oh good – now that we're dating you're going to get all creepy and possessive and keep me locked up in rooms now. Great."

"I wouldn't even need to. You don't go out places anyway."

Matt pouted and leaned his head against Mello's shoulder. "I guess you're right. I don't want anyone else touching you, either."

"Fuck that. I'd break anyone's fingers if they tried touching me. Do you know what kind of people hire prostitutes?! Creepy, desperate ugly men OR serial killers. I just need to get in that office of this 'escort service.'"

"How do you intend to do that?"

"Apply for a job."

"Mel . . ."

"While I'm upstairs whoring and woman-ing myself up – I need YOU to make me a fake ID with a fake social security number. Thanks!" Mello said, getting up and causing Matt to nearly fall over sideways on the piano bench.

"Can I put your name as 'Meldonna'?"

"Absolutely not. Do it and I'll fucking kill you."

Matt sighed and watched Mello go upstairs, and then moved the laptop over near the other electronics in the living room.

----------

Matt was finishing up laminating Mello's fake ID and finishing up a social security card when Mello walked downstairs. He was wearing his usual leather pants and vest, but instead of his usual boots he had on high-heeled knee-high lace up boots, and his hair had a bit more volume than usual. When he came further down the stairs, Matt also noticed he was wearing makeup.

"Hey honey, want a good time?" Mello smirked, propping one leg up on the banister of the staircase.

"Where the hell did you get those boots?"

"Oh you know, I had them around," Mello responded, descending the rest of the stairs and sitting next to Matt on the couch.

"And where the hell did you learn how to do makeup?" Matt asked, looking at him closely. "And your hair, for that matter?"

"A guy can't know how to make himself look like a woman?"

"I wouldn't call it normal, no."

"You like it."

". . . maybe."

Mello picked up the fake ID Matt had finished while he was finishing up with the social security card.

"Really, Matt? NATASHA? Do I look like I'm in some Cold War American television show as a Soviet spy with a bad Russian accent?"

Matt turned and grinned at him. "Oh, come on Mel. Your accent is MUCH more believable."

Mello just rolled his eyes. "Give me one of your little camera thingies."

"My little camera thingies?"

"Stop making fun of me and fucking give me one."

Matt continued laughing at him, but eventually gave him one of the smaller camcorders. Mello then procured a purse from the side of him, receiving a questioning look from Matt, and placed it inside.

"Is this thingy hooked up to your computer somehow?"

"Yeah. Do I want to know why you bring purses and heels with you places, Mel?"

"Aren't you glad I did it?! And I need you to watch and make sure I don't die."

"You really think you're going to die at an escort service's office?"

"I am damn sexy! You never know what could happen!"

"Okay, okay. Here's your ID and social security card," Matt said, handing them to him as Mello stood up.

"I'm not sure how long this will take. But if for any reason this camera stops recording, here's the address and come get me."

Matt pulled Mello down by the front of his vest and gave him a slow kiss. "Please be careful Mel."

"I'll be fine," Mello smiled reassuringly. "I have my gun on me!"

". . . where?"

"Boot," Mello said, lifting up the left foot and placing it on Matt's upper thigh. "Don't miss me too much!"

------------

Yay! I finally got another chapter done. Sorry it took me so long. This chapter's okay – not a huge fan of it myself, but at least it's something for you guys. I'm going to try to get another chapter done before I leave for Japan in nine days, and I'm sure I'll have downtime there sometimes, so I will continue writing there. But updates will probably come slower (not like they're coming too fast now).

Anyway – please review! Makes me happy :)

I hope everyone has a fantastic end of the year and a fantastic beginning of the next year!


	10. Not Gonna Get Us

Author's Note: Am I a terrible person? For sure, I certainly am. I haven't updated in FOREVER. And I apologize. But I am having the time of my life in Japan. That totally makes up for it and I do expect everyone to understand. And I also have no idea where I left off on review replies – so I apologize to anyone I didn't reply back to – your reviews are, as always, much appreciated and you're all lovely.

Everyone should go visit Tokyo/Japan. I wish I didn't have classes so I could do more stuff – because there's SO MUCH stuff to do here. And it's so diverse. I went from clubbing till 5 AM in a crazy underground 3-floor club on Saturday to meditating with a Buddhist monk in Kamakura on Wednesday. If you have the opportunity – GO. I'm done ranting about Japan. I did post my blog in my profile but SURPRISES OF ALL SURPRISES - I don't update it. :\ If people are interested in looking at my pictures though, fell free to check out my albums over on facebook. The link's http:// www. face book . com / profile . php ? ref=profile&id=1242150397 I put in spaces cause I don't know if links go through on this. Also – it may or may not be private. I tried to make it private but then facebook decided it was too cool and changed privacy settings so I have no idea if it is or is not anymore. Either way – feel free to add me!

Page long author's note OVER

Disclaimer: And I don't own anything.

* * *

Mello was sitting in a leather armchair, looking confused, glancing at a piece of paper.

Matt smiled a little as he watched through the webcam. Leave it to Mello to act completely insane and get in way over his head.

Stealing a quick glance around the room, Mello took out his phone and texted Matt.

"This is the weirdest application I have ever filled out."

"What were you expecting from an escort service?" Matt texted back.

"I don't know – normal questions? I've never even heard of this shit."

"Come on, Mel, you must have heard of some of it."

"I don't creep around the internet on creepy as fuck websites like you. But why the fuck are they asking me anyway?!"

"I don't creep around the internet. I just get bored. And they're asking you PROBABLY because you're applying to be a prostitute."

"Escort. I'm classier than that."

"Could've fooled me."

"Fuck you."

"Maybe. What are your rates?"

Mello read Matt's last message and rolled his eyes. He sent a glare towards the camera hiding in the purse next to him and dropped his phone back in as he was approached.

"Sorry," Mello smiled apologetically to the man approaching him with a questioning look. "I was double-checking with an old client about my experience level on some of these questions."

The man gave a small nod and waited for Mello to finish the paper. Growing impatient, Mello checked off a few random things and gave it to him. Judging by the man's nods as he flipped through it, he didn't fuck up too badly.

"Let me go enter some things into the main computer," the man said as he walked into a side room.

As soon as the door had been shut for a millisecond, Mello was across the room at the reception computer, calling Matt.

"Matt – I need you to erase anything I'm about to do from their security cameras."

"What –" Matt pouted. "Do I have to pay you to say hello to me now?"

"Matt!"

"They're already blacked out – calm down."

Mello hung up the phone quickly and started looking through the computer. Luckily, either someone hadn't logged out or they never password protected the computer. Mello opened up what looked like a directory of sorts – and what popped up looked like a sort of appointment sheet. Giving a sigh of defeat, Mello called Matt back.

"How the fuck do I find shit on something that's probably thirty names long with a bunch of other names filling up a spreadsheet?"

"Gee, I don't know – maybe if you were a little more vague I could help you."

"Matt!"

"What kind of system is it?"

"I have no fucking clue. It looks confusing as hell like the shit on your computer."

"Okay – are you in the folder you want to be in?"

"Yeah – it's a list of names."

"All right. Type in the name of that guy to check and see who he had an appointment with and that's your girl."

"I just type in his name?"

"Well, no – you have to use the find command."

"Matt."

"Type in 'find' and then do a front slash, and then type in his name and then type in the name of that document."

Mello followed the instructions and surprisingly came up with the appointment within the time frame the book would have been given.

". . . that was easy."

"Most things are when you know what you're doing."

Mello rolled his eyes, hung up on Matt again and then quickly wrote down the name of the girl who had come up with the appointment, thinking to himself what kind of prostitute would use such a cliché name such as 'Candy.' Shrugging, he jotted down her phone number and address, and closed out of the program, returning to his seat. He grabbed the bag he had brought with him, took a glance at the side room to make sure the door wasn't opening, and booked it out of the building.

When he judged he was far enough away that the man wouldn't come looking for him, Mello stopped and pulled out his phone again. He quickly dialed the number and waited for the girl to pick up.

Matt watched the webcam, sitting on the couch, thinking about how bored he was. Bored bored bored. Mello could have at least done something exciting. Like that time they had almost gotten killed. It was pretty exciting. They both could have been a little more badass in the situation, as Mello had looked like he was going to through up and Matt figured he was probably eight seconds away from crying at the time, but it was still pretty exciting. No one had to know they weren't badass. Just took some selective editing in storytelling. Looking back at the screen, Matt saw absolutely nothing. Just a black screen.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck," Matt muttered while he fiddled with a few things. Definitely wasn't his computer – that meant it was Mello. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuck."

Shit. And he was getting a Skype call. He hit answer quickly while he scanned through the last minute of footage he had from the webcam.

"Hello," said a monotone voice from the little corner of the screen Matt had pushed the Skype window to. Glancing quickly, he saw it was Near.

"Oh – hey Near. Totally not a good time," Matt said, his eyes fixed on the left part of the computer screen. Mello was talking on the phone, blah blah blah, asked the girl about the book, blah blah blah, said he was coming to her address, blaaaahhh, hung up, started walking, and then nothing. "Fuuuucckk!"

"When you are done swearing and looking panicked, I have something very important to tell you. Mello never called me, so I took the initiative and decided to call you."

"You couldn't have just told me the first time?" Matt said as he called Mello on his cell phone. Absolutely nothing.

"I feel like Mello would do more about it than you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," He tried calling again. Still nothing.

"What is going on?"

"Nothing. Just . . . I lost Mello. And he looks like a hooker right now so it's probably not the best time for me to lose him in Vegas. He might get propositioned. Or kidnapped. Or killed! And he's not where he said he would be – because he left. So I have no idea where he is. Oh god. Ohgod ohgod."

"Mello doesn't usually look like a hooker?"

"These are special circumstances Near! I don't have time for this. I'll call you back later. Bye." Matt said as he closed his computer screen.

Near had looked like he was going to say something as Matt closed the computer, but that's really not what he was concerned with right now. Grabbing the sheet of paper Mello had given him earlier, he went out the door, leaving his phone on the table.

----------

Matt reached the building that Mello had previously been in. Noticing a sign on the side for the escort service, he went in and made his way to the fourth floor. The man who Matt had previously seen through the webcam was sitting at the front desk.

"May I help you?" The man asked, looking confused as they probably never had walk-ins, most people probably called for appointments.

"Um – hi. I'm looking for a friend of mine. Blonde, Russian, dressed in leather with crazy boots?'

"Oh yeah – she kind of just ran out about twenty minutes ago."

"Right – no idea where?"

"Uh. No. I was in the other office."

"Motherfucking . . . right – sorry. Bye." And with that, Matt was back outside again. "Fuck fuck fuckkkkk. This is bad. This is so bad."

Matt reached in his pocket to get his phone out to call Mello again, and realized he had left it at the hotel. Along with his cigarettes. And his goggles. Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell was he doing outside then? Pouting a little but realizing his search was somewhere near hopeless without having a single clue where Mello had gone, Matt decided to go back to the hotel to at least get his phone and see if the webcam was working again.

-----------

When he finally reached the hotel again, about 15 minutes later, he saw Mello at the suite door, evidently just getting back as he was opening the door himself.

"Mello!" Matt called out happily, tackling him through the door.

"Matt . . ." Mello sighed, having landed leaning against the entryway wall, kicking the door shut with his boot. "What the hell?"

"I thought I lost you! And that someone was going to steal you! And that I'd never see you again!" Matt mumbled into Mello's neck, still clinging on to him.

"What the fuck are you talking about? I just tried calling you to tell you that I got the damn thing," Mello said, waving a small-ish book around with his free hand.

". . . you got it?! That was easy. What did you do?"

Mello looked very serious for a second. "I had to shoot her."

"WHAT?! YOU SHOT SOMEONE?! MELLO!"

"Chill outtt," Mello giggled. "I didn't really. I just had to pay her a shit ton of money, but she really had no use for it, and had a lot of use for money, so it worked out relatively easy."

Matt glared at him. "You're not allowed to make jokes. You never make jokes. Stop it."

"I can't be funny?"

"Not unless you're being bitchy and sarcastic. It just doesn't work otherwise."

Mello rolled his eyes. "Can you get the fuck off me now?"

"No," Matt mumbled and re-buried his face in Mello's neck.

"Okay then," Mello sighed, and stood up with a bit of effort, holding onto Matt, and dragged him over to the couch where he sat down and started flipping through the book.

"The webcam stopped working and I guess I freaked out a little."

"You guess?!"

"You told me to come get you if it went out! And it did! And then you didn't answer your phone!"

"I was talking to that girl! Anyway, I don't get what's so great about this book. I mean, sure, I guess it would be useful if you were in the corporate world, but I don't see what use it has to other people."

"What's in it?"

"Basically every illegal act with proof for some of the most major companies."

". . . that is so anti-climactic."

"Tell me about it," Mello sighed. "Matt. I'm starting to lose feeling in my left arm."

"Good," Matt replied, but let go of his death-grip on Mello anyway.

"I'm going to go to the store for celebratory chocolate," Mello decided, standing up.

"There's none in the kitchen?"

"I want GOOD chocolate. This calls for like, Godiva or something."

"You're leaving me again?"

"I'm going like, downstairs and next door! I'll bring my phone and actually answer it this time."

"Get me cigarettes?"

Mello rolled his eyes. "So it's okay for me to leave if it benefits you?"

"Yup! You're going to go out like that?"

Mello shrugged. "Whatever. I'll be back soon enough." And with that he was out the door.

Matt sighed and sat up a bit more on the couch, flipping the computer back open and throwing the book on the coffee table. He figured he might as well call Near back and e-mail L, but to hold off on the e-mails to the people who had given them money until Mello decided what the hell he wanted to do about that.

The door to the suite opened and Matt called out, "Did you forget something or did you get propositioned so fast that you decided to actually come back and change?"

When he got no response, Matt turned to look at the door, but instead was met with a very painful hit on the side of his head.

-----------

"Matt. Matt! Matt – wake up."

Matt slowly opened his eyes, finding himself looking up at Mello.

"What . . . what happened? Why am I on the floor?"

"I don't know. I came back and the door was open and fuck – I think your head's bleeding but I can't tell cause of your fucking ridiculous hair color."

"My hair's perfect," Matt mumbled as he reached a hand up to try to touch his head, but Mello held it back.

"Don't touch it. Can you get up?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Matt said, pushing Mello back a little and sitting up. "Maybe not so much fine . . ." he continued, grabbing Mello's shoulders to make the room stop spinning.

"It's okay," Mello said, guiding him back up to the couch. 'Sit there. I'll get a towel from the bathroom."

While Mello was off to the bathroom, Matt's eyes focused on the coffee table. When Mello came back, he sighed.

"Yeah, the book and your laptop are gone."

". . . what the fuck?" Matt started, but just then his phone started ringing.

"Hello?" He asked, picking it up while Mello was tending to pressing a washcloth to his head.

"Matt. It's Near."

"Oh, right. You wanted to tell me something. If it had anything to do with some bitches coming in here, taking my shit and giving me a mild concussion, I probably should have listened to you earlier."

"Yes – you should have."

". . . wait – it did have to do with that?"

"Some people contacted me a little while ago, asking me to find out where you and Mello were."

"What did you say?!"

"I told them I was not accepting any new cases at the moment. And then I attempted to contact you, but apparently playing prostitute dress-up is more important."

"Shiitttt," Matt mumbled as he hung up with Near.

"Near knew?" Mello asked softly.

"Yep. And he tried to tell us. Now what do we do?"

"You're going to bed. I'm going to find these fuckers and rip their fingernails off one by one and THEN shoot them."

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Owari desuuuu!

Please review. It would make me oh-so happy! You can talk about the story, your life, my life, things you want me to photograph in Japan - anything. Just reviewww! Oh! And I believe I am going to an international anime fair in three (maybe two) weekends - so if anyone wants me to take pictures of anything for them, just let me know and I'll be happy to keep an eye out. :)

I'll try to get another chapter written ASAP but as we all know - I will make no promises. I personally think this one was wicked rushed buuttt I felt bad and wanted to post something for you guys.


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